X,. 


X. 


X 


\ 


i  ^  ■( 


%i>> 


SANDERS'    NEW    SERIES. 


THE 


SCHOOL   EEADEE. 


FIFTH   BOOK. 


w^'*->-*^^»' 


DESIGNED  AS  A  SEQUEL  TO  SAKDERS'  FOURTH  READER* 

PART    FIRST, 

CONTAININO   FULI,   IHSTRUCTIONS   IN   THE   EHETORIOAL  PBINOrPLES   OP   RGADINe 
AND   SPEAKING,   ILLUSTBATED    BY  NTTMEEOUS   EXAMPLES. 

PARTS   SECOND   AND   THIRD, 

OONSISTINO   OP   ELEGANT   EXTEACT8   IN   PEOSB   AND  POETKT  WTTH 
EXPLANATOBY  NOTES, 

FOR    THE    USB    OP    ACADEMIES 

AND   THE 

HIGHER  CLASSES  IN  COMMON  AND  SELECT  SCHOOLS. 


REVISED    AND    ENLARGED. 


By  CHARLES  W.  SANDERS,  A.  M.. 

AUTHOB  OF  "a   SEEIES  OP  EEADEE8,"   "BPKLLKB,  DEFINEB  AND  AMALYZEB," 
"  BLOOUTIONAEY   CHABT,"  ETC.  - 


NEW    YORK: 

lYISON,  PHINNEY  &  CO.,  48  &  50  WALKER  STREET.' 

CHICAGO:  S.  C.  GRIGGS  &  CO,  39  &  41  LAKE  ST. 

araoiNNATi :  moork,  wilstaoh,  keys  *  oo.    bt.  louis  :  keith  a  woods. 

PHLLADRUUIA :    80WKE,    BAENB8   &    OO.       BUFFALO:   PHINNKY    fe   00. 

1862. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  18"59,  by 

CHARLES    W.     SANDERS, 

In  the  CleTK's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 

Southern  District  of  New  York. 


BLEOTEOTYPBD     BY 

THOMAS  B.  SMITH  &  SON, 
82  &  84  Beekman  Street. 


3RLF         , 


PREFACE 


TO  THE 


REVISED   EDITION 


-^-*-¥- 


The  Fifth  Reader,  of  which  the  present  is  a  revised  and 
enlarged  edition,  differs  from  the  preceding  numbers  of  the 
Series  chiefly  in  offering  a  wider  range  of  instruction  in  the 
principles  and  practice  of  good  reading.  In  aim,  mode  and 
spirit,  it  is  one  and  the  same  precisely  with  all  the  other  works 
in  this  department  of  education,  at  present  so  extensively  and 
favorably  known  in  the  schools,  as  "  Sanders'  Series  of  Read- 


,o'' 


ino-  Books.' 

To  those,  therefore,  who  are  familiar  with  the  earlier  num- 
bers 0/  the  Series,  all  explanations  of  the  plan  of  instruction 
adopted  in  this  book,  would  be  superfluous.  For  the  sake  of 
others,  however,  it  may  be  proper  to  specify,  in  this  place,  some 
of  those  features  of  the  plan,  which  are  the  most  prominent, 
because  they  have  been  found  to  be  the  most  useful. 

In  the  first  place,  it  assumes,  that  the  principles,  which,  in 
Reading,  as  in  every  other  Art,  always  underlie  and  regulate 
the  practice,  must  be  clearly  understood,  before  they  can  be 
intelligently  applied ;  and,  accordingly,  the  student  is  conduct- 
ed through  a  course  of  Exercises  in  the  science  of  Elocution, 
carefully  adapted  to  the  intellectual  wants  of  youth,  and  yet 
well  suited  to  the  exigencies  of  the  school-room.      By  this 


IV  PREFACE. 

process,  he  comes  gradually,  thougli  early,  to  feel,  that  there 
is  a  law  of  utterance  for  every  sentence,  and,  consequently, 
that  the  surest  road  to  a  just  Elocution  is  through  an  intelligent 
application  of  principles. 

In  the  second  place,  it  proceeds  upon  the  conviction,  that 
every  course  of  instruction  in  reading  is,  in  an  important 
sense,  a  course  of  instruction  in  taste  and  in  morals.  Hence, 
in  order  to  the  cultivation  of  delicacy  and  correctness  gf  taste, 
it  furnishes,  for  imitation,  some  of  the  finest  models  of  style  in 
every  variety  of  composition  ;  while  it  labors  for  the  improve- 
ment of  the  moral  nature,  by  carefully  excluding  every  thing 
unsound  or  unseemly  in  sentiment  or  diction. 

In  the  third  place,  it  everywhere  heeds  the  intimations  of 
experience,  by  throwing  in  timely  Notes,  Definitions  and  Sug- 
gestions, designed  to  give  force  and  interest  to  the  lessons,  by 
explaining  such  matters  as  are  likely  to  be  misunderstood,  or 
altogether  unknown  by  the  generality  of  pupils.  In  this  vray, 
moreover,  is  imparted  a  large  amount  of  information,  histor- 
ical, geographical,  biographical,  and  miscellaneous,  not  other- 
wise easy  to  be  so  well  inculcated. 

In  this  edition,  the  preliminary  course  of  instruction  in  the 
principles  of  Rhetorical  reading,  will  be  found  precisely  the 
same  as  that  in  each  of  the  higher  books  of  the  Series.  This 
change  has  afforded  space  sufficient  for  the  insertion  of  a  large 
amount  of  additional  reading  matter.  It  has,  accordingly, 
been  occupied  with  a  number  of  elegant  Exercises, — forming 
Part  Second,  in  the  present  arrangement. 

But,  without  further  specification  of  the  claims  of  the  Series, 
the  present  volume  is  commended  to  the  public  with  the  ear- 
nest hope,  that  it  may  not  be  behind  any  of  its  predecessors 
in  subserving  the  purposes  of  sound  education. 


CONTENTS. 


PART    FIRST-ELOCUTION. 

PAGK 

Section  I.— Aktioulation 11 

Elementary  Sounds  of  the  Letters 12 

Substitutes  for  the  Vowel  Elements 13 

Substitutes  for  the  Consonant  Elements 13 

Errors  in  Articulation 14 

Combinations  of  Consonants 15 

Examples  to  illustrate  Indistinct  Articulation 16 

Miscellaneous  Examples 17 

Section  II. — Accent  and  Emphasis , 18 

Examples  of  Primary  and  Secondary  Accent 19 

Examples  of  Intensive  Eojphasis 20 

Examples  of  Absolute  Emphasis 21 

Examples  of  Antithetic  Emphasis 22 

Section  III.— Inflections 23 

Monotone 24 

Rising  and  Falling  Inflections 25 

Eules  for  the  use  of  Inflections 2S 

The  Circumflex 32 

Section  IV. — Modulation -. S3 

Pitch  of  Voice 34 

Quantity 86 

Eules  for  Quantity 87 

Quality ; 83 

Rules  for  Quality 33 

Notation  in  Modulation 40 

Examples  for  Exercise  in  Modulation 40 

Section  V. — The  Ruetorical  Pause 43 


PART    SECOND. 

1.  There  is  a  Spirit  in  Man, Oeorge  Bancroft,  45 

2.  Success  the  Result  of  Application  and  Perseverance,.  ..Edward  Hitchcock,  50 
8.  Genius, O.W.  Bethutie,  53 

4.  An  Evening  Reverie, W.  C.  Bryant,  56 

5.  The  Midnight  Sun, Bayard  Taylor,  58 

6.  Arctic  Scenery, Dr.  E.  K.  Kane,  GO 

1.  First  Revolution  of  the  Heavens  Witnessed  by  Man,.  .Prof.  O.  M.  Mitchel,  62 

8.  Human  Influence, 66 

9.  Elegant  Extracts, 67 

"  Dress, 0.  W.  Holmes,  67 


VI  CONTENTS. 

LESSON  BXTBJECT.  ATTTnOE.  PAGE 

9  The  Hand  and  Its  "Works, Sarah  Jcme  Hale,  69 

"  Words, 69 

"  A  Prayer, GO 

"  Flowers, Mary  Hovjitt,  69 

"  Ancestry, Sen  Jonson,  70 


PART    THIRD, 


1.  The  Intelligence  of  the  People,  the  Security  of  the  Nation,  Edward  Everett,    71 

2.  The  Inquiry, Charles  Mackay,    74 

3.  Moral  Sublimity, Wayland,    75 

"  Sequel  to  the  Same, 78 

4.  Imaginary  and  Keal  Endowments, Bowles,    79 

5.  Aspirations  after  the  Infinite, Akenside,    79 

6.  The  Vanity  of  Earthly  Glory, Wayland,    S2 

7.  The  Memory  of  the  Just, Prescott,    84 

8.  The  Pen  and  the  Press, J.  C.  Prince,    85 

9.  Liberty  and  Greatness,.. Legare,    86 

10.  The  Indian's  Eevenge, Mrs.  Hemans,    87 

11.  Forgive  and  Forget, Charles  Sioain,    93 

12.  Description  of  the  Pyramids, E.  D.  Clarke,    94 

13.  Ravages  of  Time, 98 

14.  The  Votary  of  Pleasure, Chas.  H.  Lyon,    99 

"   Vanity  of  Pleasure, Bums,  101 

"   Ecal  Pleasure, Young,  101 

15.  The  Gladiator, 101 

16.  The  Song  of  the  Simoom, James  Stillman,  104 

17.  The  Present  Age, Story,  105 

18.  The  Present  age, — continued, Channing,  110 

19.  The  Magnetic  Telegraph, Mrs.  E.  L.  Schermerhorn,  112 

20.  Slander, Milford  Bard,  113 

21.  The  Proper  Direction  of  the  Intellectual  and  Moral  Powers, Styles,  114 

"  Dignity  of  Man, Young,  115 

22.  Antidote  to  Despondency, Carlos  Wilcox,  117 

23.  What  is  Patriotism? Fisher  Ames,  113 

"   Sequel  to  the  Same, Sidney  Smith,  119 

"   Patriotism, Walter  Scott,  119 

24.  Creation, Thomas  Fox,  121 

25.  The  Days  of  Creation, From  the  German  of  Krum^macher,  124 

"    "  Let  there  be  Light !" Darwin,  125 

26.  The  Educational  Policy  of  New  York, Horace  Mann,  126 

27.  Excelsior,  or  the  Youthful  Aspirant, ,..H.  W.  Long/clloiv,  128 

"    Aspirations  of  the  Heaven-Born  Spirit, Mrs.  Hemans,  129 

28.  The  Union  of  the  States, Edmund  Randolph,  130 

"    The  Constitution, Bryant,  131 

29.  Liberty  and  Union,  One  and  Inseparable, Webster,  131 

SO.  Damon  and  Pythias ;  or  true  Friendship, William  Peter,  133 

81.  Character  and  Condition  of  the  Western  Indians, G.  Catlin,  137 

82.  Description  of  the  Euins  at  Balbec, French  of  Lamartine,  140 

83.  The  Effects  of  Time, '. Selleck  Osborne,  143 

84.  Time's  Soliloquy, . .   \U 


CONTENTS.  YU 

1JS80N  6tTBJECT,  ATJTHOE.  PAQK 

84.  Time,  tho  Signal  of  Dispatch, Young,  145 

85.  The  Just  Eetributiun, Dimond,  ] 46 

86.  Search  after  Wisdom, 150 

8T.  Tho  Value  of  Wisdom, ' Bille,  151 

38.  The  Voice  of  Wisdom, Pollok,  153 

89.  American  History, Gillian  C.  Verplanck,  154 

40.  American  Independence, A.  B.  Street,  15T 

41.  Contemplation  of  the  Starry  Heavens, Thomas  Dick,  157 

"    Sequel  to  the  Same, Mrs.  Welby,  159 

42.  Contemplation  of  the  Starry  Heavens, — continued, Thomas  Dick,  159 

"    Vastness  of  the  Universe, IGl 

'    43.  God, From  the  Russian  of  Derzhavin,  162 

44.  Majesty  and  Supremacy  of  the  Scriptures  confessed  bya  Skeptic,  Rousseau,  165 

45.  Estimation  of  the  Bible  by  the  Wisest  Philosophers  and  Statesmen,  Phillips,  167 

46.  Condition  of  tho  W^orld  without  the  Bible, Melville,  168 

47.  Happy  Freedom  of  the  Man  whom  Grace  makes  Free, Cowper,  169 

48.  Mount  Tabor, J.T.  Headlet/,  172 

49.  Mount  Tabor, — continued, do.  175 

50.  Tho  Battle-Field, Mrs.  Eemans,  177 

\    51.  Hymn  of  Praise  to  the  Creator, Thomas  Chatterton,  179 

52.  Influence  of  Education  on  the  Human  Intellect, Melville,  180 

"    Dignity  of  the  Laborer, R.  S.Andros,  180 

53.  Honor  due  to  all  Men, Chalmers,  181 

"    Heaven's  Munificence  to  Man, Pope,  184 

54.  The  Last  Man, Campbell,  185 

55.  The  Jungfrau  Alp,  and  its  Avalanches, O.  B.  Cheever,  185 

56.  Tlie  Mountain  Hymn, Coleridge,  189 

57.  Tell  on  the  Alps, 192 

"    Freedom  of  Switzerland, Knowies,  193 

58.  The  Evils  of  War, H.  Clay,  194 

59.  Peace,  the  Policy  of  a  Nation, J.  C.  Calhoun,  196 

60.  The  True  Honor  of  a  Nation, TF.  R.  Prince,  193 

61.  The  Warrior  and  the  Poet, Wm.  H.  Prescott,  199 

62.  The  Angel  of  Peace,  and  the  Angel  of  Mercy, J.  C.  Prince,  200 

63.  The  Universal  Eeign  of  Peace, Cowper,  202 

64.  Art  of  Oratory, 203 

65.  Eestoration  of  tho  Works  of  Art  to  Italy, Mrs.  Uemans,  203 

66.  Indian  Eloquence, 211 

67.  Speech  of  Black  Hawk, 216 

68.  The  Indian  Hunter, Eliza  Cook,  219 

69.  The  Dying  Archer, .....R.  C.  Waterston.,  219 

70.  Speech  of  Black  Thunder, 221 

71.  The  Aged  Indian's  Lament, Mrs.  Hemans,  111 

72.  A  Visit  to  Mount  Vernon, ff.  GreeXexj,  224 

"    The  Tomb  of  Washington, M.  S.  Pike,  225 

78.  Epitaph  on  Washington, 227 

74.  Washington, Eliza  Cook,  228 

75.  Despondency ;  or  Cicero  and  Phillscns, 229 

76.  Look  Aloft J.  Lawrence,  234 

77.  Monuments  of  Human  Grandeur  Perish, Colhjer,  234 

78.  The  Glory  of  Man  passeth  away, Watson,  237 

79.  Tho  Eternity  of  God, Bibk,  2-33 


Vni  CONTENTS. 

LESSON  8TTBJECT.  ATTTHOK.  PAOK 

80.  Omnipresence  of  God, 239 

81.  Influence  of  American  Liberty, Webster,  240 

82.  Responsibility  of  our  Country, Madison,  242 

"    Incentive  to  Perpetuate  our  Liberties, Webster,  242 

83.  The  Dying  Patriot's  Bequest, C.  M.  Brosiwn,  244 

84.  The  American  Flag, J-  C.  Pray,  Jr.,  245 

85.  Memory  and  Hope, James  K.  Paulding,  246 

86.  The  Christian's  Hope, 250 

"    Sequel  to  the  Same, Campbell,  251 

87.  The  Pure  in  Heart  shall  meet  again, Wm.  Leggett,  252 

88.  The  Existence  of  a  God, 252 

»    Sequel  to  the  Same, 253 

89.  Atheism  Reproved, Frovi  the  Italian,  254 

"    Sequel  to  the  Same, Mrs.  Sigourney,  255 

90.  Life  is  what  we  make  it, O.  Dewey,  256 

91.  The  "World,  the  Mirror  of  the  Mind, R  H.  Dana,  25S 

92.  The  Convict  Ship, T.  K.  Hervey,  200 

93.  The  Evils  of  Ignorance, Watson,  261 

94.  The  Student, 263 

95.  Valley  of  the  Jordan  and  Dead  Sea, French  of  Chateaubriand,  266 

96.  Elijah's  Interview, Campbell,  268 

97.  Eulogy  on  the  Lives  of  Adams  and  Jefferson, Story,  269 

"    Sequel  to  the  Same, Webster,  iTi 

98.  The  Gray  Forest  Eagle, A.  B.  Street,  273 

99.  Insignificance  of  the  Earth, Chalmers,  275 

100.  A  Name  in  the  Sand, H.  F.  Gould,  278 

101.  Happiness, Pollok,  279 

102.  Analogy  between  the  Decay  of  Nature  and  of  Man, Alison,  281 

103.  Ee-union  of  Friends, Montgomery,  283 

104.  God,  the  true  Object  of  Confidence, Greenwood,  284 

105.  Hymn  to  the  Creator, Rowe,  287 

1 06.  Advice  to  a  Young  Lawyer, Story,  288 

107.  The  Discoveries  of  Geology  consistent  with  the  Spirit  of  Religion,  Everett,  289 

108.  The  Andes, Hine,  291 

109.  Address  to  the  Condor, Mrs.  Ellett,  292 

1 10.  Perceptions  of  the  Beautiful, Mrs.  Sigourney,  293 

"     Bounties  of  Nature, 295 

111.  Pleasures  derived  from  the  Beauty  of  Nature, Dwight,  295 

"     Poetry  on  the  Same, Mrs.  Hemans,  296 

112.  The  Mammoth  Cave, Geo.  D.  Prentice,  296 

113.  Mental  Improvement  a  Progressive  "Work, Ira  Harris,  299 

114.  Life  and  Death  contrasted, Young,  302 

115.  Veneration  for  the  Tomb,  a  Proof  of  the  Soul's  Immortality,  Chateaubriand,  804 

"     The  Consolations  of  Death, John  Foster,  305 

"     The  Dying  Christian  to  his  Sonl, Pope,  805 

116.  Indian  Mode  of  Killing  the  Buffalo, George  Catlin,  806 

117.  Indian  Mode  of  Killing  the  Buffalo, — continued, George  Catlin,  808 

lis.  The  "White  Rose  of  Miami, Mrs.  E.  L-  Schermerhorn,  811 

119.  Remorse  of  Conscience  ;  or,  Catiline, Croly,  812 

120.  An  appeal  to  the  Patriotism  of  South  Carolina, A.  Jackson,  818 

"     Land  of  our  Birth, 321 

121.  Christ  in  the  Tempest, J.  G.  Whitticr,  323 


CONTENTS.  IX 

tESSOM  BTIBraOT.  ATTTHOE.  PAGE 

122.  The  Paupers  Death  Bed, Mrs.  Southey,  823 

123.  Public  Announcement  of  the  Death  of  John  Quincy  Adams,  R.  C.  Winthrop,  824 

124.  Eulogy  on  the  Life  and  Services  of  John  Quincy  Adams, Holmes,  826 

125.  What  is  Life  ? John  Clark,  829 

126.  Farewell  of  the  Soul  to  the  Body , Mrs.  Sigourney,  330 

127.  Examples  of  American  Patriotism, Eoerett^  332 

"     Influence  of  the  Present,  on  the  Future  Destiny  of  our  Country, 

Gillian  C.  Verplanck, SS3 

128.  Freedom's  Song, C.  W.  Sanders,  334 

129.  The  Star  in  the  "West, Eliza  Cook,  385 

130.  Plea  for  Ireland, Phillips,  386 

131.  Moral  Culture, 883 

"     Admonition  to  the  Young, S.  S.  Randall,  840 

133.  Euins  of  Pompeii, 841 

133.  Destiuction  of  Pompeii, Macaulay,  342 

134.  Destruction  of  Vomx>&\X,— continued, do.      846 

135.  Universal  Providence  of  God, Melville,  349 

136.  Elegant  Extracts 851 

"  Varied  Changes  of  Creation, Young,  351 

"  Eesult  of  Procrastination, Longfellow,  852 

"  Divine  Compassion, Couper,  852 

"  Nature's  Loveliness, Chalmers,  852 

«  Vice Pope,  353 

"  Value  of  the  Soul, 353 

"  Mercy Shakspeare,  853 

"  The  Poor  Cared  for, Jfelnlle,  354 

"  Long-Suffering, Lope  de  Vega,  854 

"  Improvement, Campbell,  854 

13T.  The  Printing  Press, Cumming,  855 

"     Sequel  to  the  Same, B.  Greeley,  855 

138.  Modern  Greece, Byron,  857 

139.  Character  of  La  Fayette, J-  T.  Headley,  353 

140.  La  Fayette's  Last  Visit  to  America do  861 

"     Welcome  to  General  La  Fayette, Everett,  868 

141.  Death,  the  final  Conqueror;  or,  the  Old  Baron's  last  Banquet,  A.  0.  Greene,  364 

142.  Starved  Rock;  or,  the  Last  of  the  Illinois, Lanman,  867 

"    Sequel  to  the  Same, U-  Sale,  870 

143.  The  Voices  of  the  Dead, O.  Dewey,  870 

144.  The  Grave, :   -R-  -B^air,  873 

145.  Advantages  of  Small  States, Alison,  875 

146.  The  Prisoner  of  Chillon, Byron,  876 

147.  The  Prisoner  of  CXxWion,— continued do.      380 

14S.  InsufQciency  of  Natural  Eeligion, CoUyer,  8S2 

149.  Effects  of  Christianity Watson,  885 

150.  The  Lord,  the  King  of  Glory, Bible,  386 

151.  Eome, «^-  ^-  Maynard,  3S7 

152.  Detraction 889 

153.  Value  of  Reputation, Phillips,  890 

154.  The  Pleasures  of  Memory, '. ^•^-  <?•  Clark,  292 

155.  The  Euins  of  Chi-Chen, •  M.  Norman,  893 

156.  Reflections  on  the  Euins  of  Chi-Chen do.  897 

157.  Reflections  from  the  Summit  of  an  Egyptian  Pyramid, 400 


X  CONTENTS. 

tESBON  EtrBJEOT,  ATTTHOK.  PAGE 

158.  Superiority  of  the  Works  of  Nature  over  those  of  Art, 401 

159.  Nature, A.B.  Street,  405 

160.  Music  of  Nature, Dryden,  408 

"     Sequel  to  the  Same, J.  H.  Clinch,  409 

161.  Former  and  Present  Condition  of  New  York, Bancroft,  409 

162.  Philosophy, Thomson,  411 

163.  Progress  of  Civilization, Samuel  Young,  414 

"    Progress  of  Scieuce, J,  Chase,  417 

164.  Immortality  of  the  Soul, Addison,  418 

165.  Consolations  of  Immortality, ; Robert  Montgomery,  419 

166.  Europe  and  America  Contrasted, Webster,  420 

167.  The  Beauty  of  the  Scene  enhances  the  Beauty  of  the  Deed, ....  Emerson,  422 

168.  Address  of  Leonidas, Richard  Glover,  424 

169.  Soliloquy  of  the  Dying  Alchemist, N.  P.  Willis,  425 

170.  Duties  of  American  Citizens, Wayland,  429 

171.  Duties  of  American  Citizens, — continued, do.        432 

172.  The  Value  of  Time, Young,  486 

173.  Advertisement  of  a  Lost  Day, Mrs.  Sigourney,  438 

174.  Eulogy  on  Noah  Webster, Chancellor  Kent,  439 

175.  The  Uses  of  History, W.  Irving,  440 

"     True  Fame, Jajj,  441 

176.  Manifest  Presence  of  the  Deity, R.  Montgomery,  442 

177.  Intellectual  and  Moral  Power, E.  L.  Magoon,  444 

"    The  Light  of  the  Gospel, Hoffman,  4A7 

178.  Scotland  and  New  England, Robert  Turnbull,  448 

"     Address  to  New  England, G.  D.  Prentice,  449 

179.  The  Closing  Tear, do.  450 

180.  The  American  Eevolution Jared  Sparks,  452 


->»  ♦  »« 


RHKTORIOAL    NOTATION. 


Intlectioks. 

(  '  )  Eising  Inflection. 
(  V  )  Falling  Inflection. 
( -^  )  Circumflex. 
-  )  Monotone. 

MODTILATIOKS. 

(  °  )  High. 

(°°)  High  and  loud. 

(  °  )  Low. 


(  „„  )  Low  and  loud. 

(  =  )  Quick. 

(  "  )  Short  and  quick. 

isl.)  Slow. 

{p.  )  Soft. 

(pp.)  Very  soft. 

(/.  )  Loud. 

(/.)  Very  loud. 

(pi.)  Plaintive. 

(-<)  Increase. 

{>~)  Decrease. 


Note.— The  student  will  find  it  advantageous  to  determine  the  inflection  and 
modulation  of  the  voice,  which  the  reading  or  speaking  of  a  passage  requires,  from 
the  sense ;  and  afterward  to  denote  the  same  by  the  use  of  the  foregoing  notation,  as 
well  as  to  designat^fci  the  usual  manner,  the  emphatic  words  and  sentences.  This 
e.xercise  will  lead  the  mind  to  perceive  the  various  intonationa  of  voice,  in  which 
natural  reading  or  speaking  consists. 


S  A  N  D  E  R  S' 
FIFTH      READER 


PART  FIRST. 

ELOCUTION. 

Elocution  is  the  art  of  delivering  -written  or  extern* 

poraneous  composition  with  force,  propriety,  and  ease. 

It  deals,  therefore,  with  words,  not  only  as  individuals,  but  as 
members  of  a  sentence,  and  parts  of  a  connected  discourse :  in- 
cluding every  thing  necessary  to  the  just  expression  of  the  sense. 
Accordingly,  it  demands,  in  a  special  manner,  attention  to  the 
following  particulars ;  viz.,  Aetioulation,  Accent,  Emphasis,  In- 
flection, Modulation,  and  PAUsfia. 


'^«  »  «^ 


SECTION    I. 

ARTICULATION. 

AETicULATioisr  is  the  art  of  uttering  distinctly  and 

justly  the  letters  and  syllables  constituting  a  word. 

It  deals,  therefore,  with  the  elements  of  words,  just  as  elocution 
deals  with  the  elements  of  sentences :  the  one  securing  the  true 
enunciation  of  each  letter,  or  combination  of  letters,  the  other 
giving  to  each  word,  or  combination  of  words,  such  a  delivery  as 
best  expresses  the  meaning  of  the  author.     It  is  the  basis  of  all 

Questions. — What  is  Elocution  ?  To  what  subjects  does  it  require 
particular  attention  ?    What  is  Articulation  f 


12 


SANDERS'    NEW    SERIES, 


good  reading,  and   should  be  carefully  practiced  by  the  learner. 
The  following  Directions  and  Examples  are  given  as  guides  : 

I. — Produce,  according  to  the  following  Table,  all  the  Ele- 
mentary Sounds  of  the  Language  : 

ELEMENTARY   SOUNDS   OF  THE   LETTERS. 

TOWEL   SOUNDS. 


TONICS. 

Element. 

Power 

1.— 'A 

as  in 

^pe. 

2.     ^A 

Arm. 

3.     ^-A 

AW. 

4.     ^A 

At. 

5.— ^A 

Care. 

6.     ^A 

^sk. 

7.— 'E 

EXQ. 

8.     ^E 

End. 

9.— 'I 

Ice. 

10.     'I 

It. 

11.     '0 

Old. 

12.     =0 

1)0. 

13.-^0 

Ox. 

14.— 'U 

Tune. 

15.     =U 

Up. 

16.      ^U 

TuW. 

17.     01 

Oil 

18.     OU 

Out. 

CONSONANT    SOUNDS. 

SUB-TONICS. 

19.^B       as    in  ^at. 


20.— D 


Z»un. 


SUB-TONICS. 

Element. 

Power. 

21.     G*       as 

in           Gm\. 

22.— J 

'             Jet. 

23.— L 

'             Zet. 

24.     M 

'             .^/an. 

25.      N 

'     ■        A^ot. 

26.— R 

'             Rvixi. 

27.     V 

'             Fent, 

28.     W 

'             TTent. 

29.     Y 

Fes, 

30.      'Z            * 

'             Zeal. 

31.— =Z 

'            Azure. 

32.      NG 

'             ^mg. 

33,     TH 

Thy. 

A-TONICS. 

34.— F         as 

in          i^it. 

35.     H 

^at. 

36.— K 

.A^id. 

37.     P 

Pit. 

38.     S              « 

'             ^in. 

39.— T 

Top. 

40.     CH 

'              Chat. 

4i.-sn 

'              Shun. 

42.     TH 

Thm. 

43.— WHf      ' 

When 

*  Soft  Gr  is  equivalent  to  J ;  soft  C  to  S,  and  hard  C  and  Q,  to  K.  X  is 
equivalent  to  K  and  S,  as  in  box,  or  to  G  and  Z,  as  in  exalt. 

•)•  WH  is  pronounced  as  if  the  H  preceded  W,  otherwise  it  would  be 
pronounced  W-hen.  R  should  be  slightly  trilled  before  a  vowel.  For 
further  instructions,  see  Sanders  and  MerriU's  Elementary  and  Elocu- 
tionary Chart. 

Questions. — How  many  Elementary  Sounds  "are  there  ?  How  many 
vowel  sounds  ?    What  are  they  ?    Utter  the  consonant  sounds. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  13 

SUBSTITUTES    FOR    THE    VOWEL    ELEMENTS. 

1st.  For  Long  ^ A,  we  have  ai,  as  in  sail ;  au  in  gauge ;  ay  in 

lay  ;  ea  in  great ;  ei  in  deign ;  ey  in  they. 
2d.  For  Flat  ^A,  au  in  daunt;  ua  in  guard]  ea  in  ^eart. 
3d.  For  Broad  'A,  a?i  in  pause ;  aw  in  Zaw;  eo  in  George ;  oa  in 

(/roai ;  o  in  Ao?-n  ;  ou  in  sought. 
4th.  For  /S%or<  *A,  ai  in  plaid  ;  ua  in  guaranty. 
5th.  For  ^A  before  r,  ai  in  ^air  /  ea  in  hear  ;  ex  in  their  ;  e  in  where. 
6th.  For  Zo??^  ^E,  ea  in  weak;  ei  in  seize ;  ie  in  hrief;  eo  in^eo- 

pfe;  i  m  pique  ;  ey  in  Aiey. 
7th.  For  Short  ^E,  a  in  any  ;  ai  in  said  ;  ay  in  says  /  ea  in  dead  ;  ei 
in  heifer  ;  eo  in  leopard ;  ie  in  friend  ;  we  in  grwess  ;  u  in  ftwry. 
8th.  For  Long  ^I,  ai  in  aisle;  ei  in  sleight;  ey  in  e?/e;  ie  in  die/ 

ui  in  grziic^e  ;  «?/  in  huy  ;  y  in  try. 
9  th.  For  zS^or^  %  e  in  English  ;  ee  in  Jeen;  ie  in  siei'e;  o  in  t/;o- 
men ;  u  in  Z>MSi/  ;  m  in  huild ;  y  in  symbol. 
10th.  For  Xon^f  ^0,  au  in  hautboy  ;  eau  in  beau  ;  eo  in  yeoman ;  ew 

in  sew;  oa  in  &oa</  oe  in  ^oe;  ow  in  soul ;  ow  mflow. 
11th.  For  Long  Slender  "0,  oe  in  shoe  ;  ou  in  sowp. 
12th.  For  Short  '0,  a  in  was ;  ou  in  hough  ;  ow  in  knowledge. 
I3th.  For  i/ori^r  ^U,  eaw  in  beauty  ;  eu  in  feud ;  ew  in  (?ew;  «e  in 

ewe  ;  ou  in  yowr ;  ui  in  swi< ;  ow  in  your. 
I4th.  For  >S'Ao?-i  ^  [J,  e  in  A  er  ;  i  in  sir  ;  oe  in  c^oes  /  o  in  Zove  ;  y  in  myrrh. 
15th.  For  ^Aori  Slender  ^TJ,  o  in  woZ/"/  om  in  would. 
16th.  For  01,  oy  in  /oy. 
17th.  For  OU,  ow  in  now. 

SUBSTITUTES    FOR    THE    CONSONANT    ELEMENTS, 

For  F,  we  have  gh,  as  in  laugh  ;  ph  in  sphere. 

For  J,  5^  in  gem,  gin,  gyre. 

For  K,  c  in  can;  ch  in  chord;  gh  in  hough;  q  in  jm'i. 

For  S,  c  in  cen<,  cion,  cygnet. 

For  T,  d  in  faced  ;  phth  in  phthisic. 

For  V,  /  in  of ;  ph  in  Stephen. 

For  T,  i  in  onion,  valiant. 

For  iZ,  c  in  suffice  ;  s  in  is  ;  a;  in  Xerxes. 

For  'Z,  s  in  treasure;  z  in  azwre  ;  si  in  fusion  ;  zi  in  glazier. 

QuES. — How  many  substitutes  has  long  A  ?     What  are  they  ?  &c. 


14 


SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 


For  NG,  n  in  languid,  linguist. 

For  SH,  ci  iu  social;  ch  in  chaise;  si  in  pension;  8  in  sure;  sa 

in  issue  ;  ti  in  notion. 
For  CH,  ^i  in/tts^zort,  mixtion. 
B,  D,  G,  H,  L,  M,  N,  P,  and  R,  have  no  substitutes. 

II. — Avoid  the  suppression  of  a  syllable ;  as, 


cab'n 

for 

cab-m. 

mem'ry 

for 

mem-o-ry. 

cap'a 

« 

cap-toin. 

jub'lee 

<i 

ju-bi-lee. 

barr'l 

<i 

bar-rel, 

trav'ler 

i( 

trav-el-er. 

ev'ry 

M 

ev-er-y. 

fam'ly 

« 

fam-^-ly. 

hist'ry 

« 

his-to-ry. 

vent'late 

(1 

ven-ti-late. 

reg'lar 

« 

reg-M-lar. 

des'late 

« 

des-o-late. 

sev-ral 

« 

eev-er-al. 

prob'ble 

n 

prob-a-ble. 

rhet'ric 

M 

rhet-o-ric. 

par-tic'lar 

« 

par-tic-M-lar. 

III. — Avoid  the  omission  of  any  sound  properly  belonging 
to  a  word  j  as, 


read-in 

for 

read-in^f. 

pr'-tect 

for 

pro-tect. 

Bwif-ly 

<i 

swift-ly. 

b'-low 

<i 

be-low. 

com-mana 

« 

com-mancfe. 

p'r-vade 

II 

per-vade. 

wam-er 

« 

warm-er. 

srink-in 

11 

BArink-in^. 

um-ble 

« 

Aum-ble. 

th'if-ty 

11 

tbrif-ty. 

ap-py 

II 

Aap-py. 

as-ter-ia 

II 

as-ter-is^. 

con-sia 

11 

eon-sisis. 

gov-er-ment 

li 

gov-ern-ment. 

fa-t'l 

(1 

fa-tal. 

Feb-u-a-ry 

(1 

Feb-ru-a-ry. 

IV. — Avoid  the  substitution 

of  one  sound  for  another ;  as, 

iff-ford 

for 

«f-ford. 

mod-^■st 

for 

mod-est. 

■wil-ler 

i< 

wil-lojo. 

wp-prove 

11 

ap-prove. 

60ck-it 

K 

60ck-et. 

«)ia-e-gar 

i( 

?;in-e-gar. 

fear-lwsa 

II 

fear-less. 

sep-e-rate 

II 

eep-o-rate. 

cul-ter 

II 

cul-twre. 

tem-per-it 

11 

tem-per-ate. 

prod-u« 

tl 

prod-uc<s. 

croc-er-dile 

(1 

croc-o-dile. 

judg-m?mt 

II 

judg-ment. 

tMb-ae-cwr 

II 

to-bac-co. 

chil-drin 

II 

chil-dren. 

com-prMm-ise 

11 

cora-pro-mise. 

Qtjestions. — What  letters  have  no  substitutes  ?  What  error  in  Ar- 
ticulation would  be  avoided  by  the  observance  of  direction  II.  ?  Give 
examples.  What,  by  direction  III.  ?  Esamplea.  What,  by  direction 
IV".  ?    Examples. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  15 

V. — Produce  the  sounds  denoted  by  the  following  combi- 
nations of  consonants : 

Let  the  pnpil  first  produce  the  sounds  of  the  letters,  and  then  the 
word,  or  words,  in  which  they  occur.  Be  careful  to  give  a  clear 
and  distinct  enunciation  to  every  letter. 

1.  Bd^  as  in  roVd;  idst,  "proh^dst;  il,  SZand,  able;  Md,  humSZW/ 

lldst,  trouirdst;  ilst,  trou&Z'sf;  Mz,  crumiles;  Jr,  5rand;  &a, 
rife. 

2.  CA,  as  in  church;  cht,  fetc/i'tZ. 

8.  Dj^  as  in  edge ;  djd,  hedg''d ;  dl,  "bridle ;  did,  TiddVd ;  dlst, 
'h&ndVst ;  dlz,  hxxndles ;  dn,  har d'n;  dr,  drove;  dth,  -v/idth; 
dths,  "breadtlis;  dz,  odds. 

4.  M,  as  in^ame ;  Jld,  riJVd  ;  Jht,  &t\JPst ;  flz,  rifles  ;  fr^  froxo. ;  fs, 

qnajfs,  \ang1is  ;  fot,  l&ngKst,  quajf' si ;  /i,  raft ;  fts^  •wafts  ; 
ftst,  graffsi. 

5.  Gd,  as  in  hegg^l ;  gdst,  hvagg^dst ;  gl,  glide ;  gld,  struggPd ; 

gldst,  haggVdst ;  gist, sir angrst;  glz,  mingles;  gr,  grove;  gst, 
heg^'si ;  gz,  &gs. 

6.  Jxl,  as  in  \incle,  ankle;  Jold,  tricJZVZ;   Mdst,  trnchV ds t ;  Tclst^ 

cliMehl'st ;  hlz,  •wrinkles ;  hn,  blac^''ri;  knd,  recFri'd;  kndst^ 
recFn^dst ;  knst,  blaci'/i'si ;  hnz,  reckons ;  kr^  crank ;  is, 
checks;  kt,  act. 

7.  X&,  asinbuZS;  Ibd^'hwWd ;  lbs,\>\xll)S ;  lch,Mch ;  IcM^helch'd; 

Id,  hold;  Idst,  ioWst ;  Idz,  holds;  If,  self;  Ifs,  grdfs;  Ij, 
buZ^e;  Ik,  elk;  Iks,  silks;  lkt,ro.iWd ;  Ikts,  mulcts ;  lm,elm; 
Imd,  wheZm'tZ ;  Imz,  Mms ;  In,  faU'n  ;  Ip,  help ;  Ips,  scalps ; 
Ipst,  help'st ;  Is,  false  ;  1st,  calVst ;  It,  melt ;  Ith,  health :  Iths, 
stealths;  Us,  colts;  Iv,  del/oe ;  Ivd,  sheWd;  Ivz,  elves;  Iz, 
halls. 

8.  Md,  as  in  doom'cZ ;  mf,  trium^A ;  mp,  hemp ;  mpt,  tempt ;  mpt^, 

aitempts ;  mst,  entomVst ;  mz,  tomhs. 

9.  J^ch,  as  in  bench ;  ncht,  T^incK'd ;  nd,  and ;   ndst,  end''st ;  ndz, 

ends ;  ng,  sung  ;  ngd,  hang''d ;  ngth,  length ;  ngz,  songs ;  nj^ 
range ;  njd,  rang''d ;  nk,  ink ;  nks,  ranks ;  nkst,  tban^^'s^ ;  nst^ 
■winc'd;  nt,  sent;  nts,  rents;  ntst,  •wenfst;  nz,  runs. 

10.  Fl,  as  in  ^Zume;  pld,  rippVd;  plst,  lij^pVst ;  pU^  ai^ples;  pr, 

prince ;  ps,  sips  ;  pst^  rapp'si. 


16  SANDERS'    KEW    SERIES. 

11.  Hi,  as  in  hcrl;  rch, search;  rcht,  chnrch''d ;  rhd^nrl'd;  rbdst, 

h&rVdst,  rhst,(\mt\\rVst;  rbz,oris;  rd^hard;  rdst,he?ird''sf, 
rdz,  words ;  rf^  tii?/;  rft,  scarf ''d ;  rg,  hnrg ;  rgz,  hurgs ;  rj, 
dirge ;  rjd,  xirg^d ;  rh,  &rh ;  rks,  arhs ;  rJcst,  worJc'st ;  rkt, 
dirJu'd;  rktst,  emharFdst;  rl,  girl;  rid,  world;  rldst,  hnrld'^st; 
rlst,  wliii^rst;  rlz,  hwls;  rm,  arm;  rmd,  arrn'd;  rmdst, 
harrrCdst ;  rmst,  arm'st ;  rmz,  charms ;  rn,  txxrn ;  rnd,  inrn'd ; 
rndst,  earrt'dst ;  rnst,  learn'st ;  rnz,  Mrna ;  rp,  carp ;  rps, 
harps;  rpt,  warp'd;  rs,  \erse;  rs\  harsh;  rst,  &rst ;  rsts, 
hnrsts ;  rt,  dart;  rth,  earth;  rths,  hirths;  rts,  -marts;  rtst, 
darfst;  ?*«,  curve ;  rvd,  nerved;  rvdst,  curo'dst;  rvst,  swerv''st; 
rvz,  nerves;  rs,  errs. 

12.  Sh,  as  in  ship ;  .s^^,  ImsA'cZ ;  s7:,  scan,  sMn ;  s'ks,  tnshi ;   sJcst, 

fvisFst ;  skt,  risFd ;  si,  slow ;  sld,  nestled ;  slz,  wrestles ; 
sm,  smile ;  sn,  snag ;  sp,  sport ;  sps,  lisps ;  spt,  clasped ;  st, 
stag;  str,  strike;  sts,  rests;  sic,  swing. 

13.  TA,  as  in ^Aine,  f Ain ;  thd,hreath''d;  thr,  three;  thst,hreath''st; 

thw,    thwack;    thz,    writhes;    tl,   title;  tld,   settVd;    tldst, 

aettVdst;  tlst,  settVst;  tie,  nettles;  tr,  jfrunk;  ts,  fi^s;  tw, 
twill. 

14.  Yd,  as  in  cnrv\l ;  vdst,  liv^ dst :  vl,  drir'?;  vld,  grovTd;  vldst, 

gvovTdst;  vlst,  drivTst;  vn,  driv''n;  vst,  liv' st ;  vz,  lives. 

15.  Wh,  as  in  wher\,  wJiere. 

16.  ZcZ,  as  in  mus'i^ ;  zl,  dazzle;  zld,  m-azzVd.;  zldst,  dazzVdst ;  zlst, 

dazzVst;  zlz,  muzzles;  zm,  spas?a;  zmz,  chasms;  zn,  ris'n ; 
end,  reasVi'c? ;  znz,  pris'ns  ;  zndst,  impi'isVi'tZs^. 

YI. — ^Avoid  blending  the  termination  of  one  word  with  the 
beginning  of  another,  or  suppressing  the  final  letter  or  letters 
of  one  word,  when  the  next  word  commences  with  a  similar 
sound. 

EXAMPLES. 

False  sigh*  sicken  instead  of  Fal'  Bigh'  sicken. 

In  peril's  darkest  Aour  "  In  peril's  darkest  fower. 

Question. — What  error  in  Articulation  \rould  be  avoided  by  the  ob- 
Bervance  of  direction  VI.  f     Give  examples. 


FIFTH      BOOK,  17 

Song.5  of  praise3,  instead  of   Song"  sof  praises. 

We  are  apt  to  shut  our  eyes,  "  "We  are  rapt  to  shut  tour  rise. 

It  strikes  -with  an  awe,  "  It  strikes  with  a  naw. 

A  reader  made  easy,  "  A  redermadezy. 

The  scenes  of  tliose  darfc  ages,  "  Thie  scenes  sof  those  dark  cagea. 

Dry  the  orphan's  tears,  "  Dry  the  orphan  stears. 

Percivals'  acfe  and  extracte,  "  Percival  sacks  sand  cZextracfo. 

Note. — By  an  indistinct  Articulation  the  sense  of  a  pas- 
sage  is  often  liable  to  be  perverted. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  He  built  him  an  ice  Aouse. 
He  built  him  a  nice  house. 

2.  My  heart  is  awed  within  me. 
My  heart  is  sawed  within  me. 

3.  A  great  error  often  exisfe. 
A  great  terror  often  existe. 

4.  He  is  content  in  either  situation. 
He  is  content  in  neither  situation. 

B.  "Whom  ocean  feels  through  all  her  countless  waves. 

Who  motion  feels  through  all  her  countless  waves. 
6.  My  brothers  ought  to  owe  nothing. 

My  brothers  sought  to  own  nothing. 

1.  He  was  called  by  his  father's  name. 
He  was  scalled  by  his  father's  name. 

8.  "We  traveled  o'er  fields  of  ice  and  snow. 
We  traveled  o'er  fields  of  vice  sand  snow. 

9.  He  was  drained  in  the  religion  of  his  fathers. 
He  was  sprained  La  the  religion  of  his  fathers, 

MISCELLANEOUS     EXAMPLES. 

1.  The  highis,  depths,  lengths,  and  hreadths  of  the  subjed. 
£.  The  flag  of  freedom  floats  once  more  aloft. 

5.  It  was  decidedly  the  severest  storm  of  the  season. 
4.  She  sought  shelter  from  the  sunshine  in  the  sTiade. 

6.  His  shriveled  limbs  were  shivering  with  the  cold. 


Question. — How,  by  indistinct  articulation,  is  the  sense  of  a  passage 
liable  to  be  perverted?    Give  examples. 


18  SANDERS'      KEW      SERIES. 

6.  A  h'lg  UsLck  bug  bit  a  big  black  bear. 

I.  Bound  the  rough  and  rugged  rocks  the  ragged  rascai  ran. 

8.  He  sawed  six  long,  slim,  sleek,  sZender  saplings. 

9.  Slowly  and  sadly  we  laid  him  down. 
From  the  field  of  his  fame  fresh  and  gory. 

10.  From  thy  throne  in  the  sky,  thou,  look'st  and  laugKst  at  the  storm, 
and  guxd'st  the  bolts  of  Jove. 

II.  The  unceremoaiousneas  of  their  communicahility  is  wholly  inex- 
ph'cable. 

12.  The  best  of  aU  governments  m  thi^  badly  governed  world,  is  a  re- 
j>ublican  government. 

13.  When  the  world  is  dark  with  tempests,  when  thunders  roll  and 
lightnings  fly,  tJiou  lookest  in  thy  beauty /rom  the  clouds,  a.nd  laughest  &1; 
the  storm. 

14.  The  hidden  ocean  showed  itself  anew, 
And  barren  wastes  still  stole  upon  the  view. 

15.  He  spoke  disinterestedly,  reasonably,  philosophically,  partiCMlorly, 
peremptoril?/,  authoritative??/,  wnhesitatingZy,  and  extemporaneoMsly. 

16.  JJis  falchion  flashed  along  the  Nile  ; 

.ffis  hosts  he  led  through  Alpine  snows ; 
O'er  Moscow's  towers  that  blazed  the  wAife, 
Sis  eagle  flag  unrolled  andfrozo. 


■^»  » 


SECTION   II. 

ACCENT    AND     EMPHASIS. 

Accent  and  Emphasis  both  indicate  some  special 
stress  of  voice. 

Accent  is  that  stress  of  voice  by  which  one  syllable  of  a 
word  is  made  more  prominent  than  others  ;  Emphasis  is  that 
stress  of  voice  by  which  one  or  more  words  of  a  sentence  are 
distinguished  above  the  rest. 

Questions. — What  do  Accent  and  Emphasis  indicate  ?  "What  is  Ac- 
cent ?    What  is  Emphasis  ? 


FIFTHBOOK.  19 

ACCENT. 

The  accented  syllable  is  sometimes  designated  thus: 
(/) ;  as,  com-mand' -ment. 

Note  I. — Words  of  more  than  two  syllables  generally  have 
two  or  more  of  them  accented. 

The  more  forcible  stress  of  voice,  is  called  the  Primary 
Accent ;  and  the  less  forcible,  the  Secondary  Accent. 

EXAMPLES     OF     PRIMART     ACCENT. 

Farm'-er,  hon'-or,  pat'-tem,  rem'-nant,  a-hide',  con-elude',  af-feci',  eoo- 
pand',  a-ione'-ment,  be-hav'-ior,  con-tent' -ment,  un-grate'-ful,  in-tens'-ive, 
trans-ac'-tion. 

EXAMPLES    OF    PRIMART    AND     SECONDARY    ACCENT. 

In  the  following  examples  the  Primary  Accent  is  desig- 
nated by  double  accentual  marks,  thus : 

Ed"-u-cate',  ed'-u-ca"-tion.  mul"-ti-ply\  mul'-ti-pU-ca"-tion,  sat"-is-Jy', 
sat'-is-fac"-iion,  com'-pre-hend",  com-pre-hen"-sion,  rec'-om-mend",  rec'-om- 
men4-a"-twn,  mo"-7nent-a'-ry,  com-mu" -ni-cate' ,  com'-pli-ment"-al,  in- 
dem'-ni-fi<a"-tion,  ex'-tem-po-ra"-ne-ous,  coun'-ter-rev'-o-lu"-tion-a-ry. 

Note  II. — ^The  change  of  accent  on  the  same  word,  often 
changes  its  meaning. 

EXAMPLES. 

col'-league,  a  partner.  col-league',  to  unite  with. 

con'-duct,  behavior.  coi>duct',  to  lead. 

des'-cant,  a  song  or  tune.  des-cant',  to  comment. 

ob'-ject,  ultimate  purpose.  ob-ject',  to  oppose. 

ref -use,  worthless  remains.  re-fuse',  to  deny ;  reject. 

proj'-ect,  apian;  a  scheme.  pro-ject',  to  jut  out. 

in'-ter-dict,  a  prohibition.  in-ter-diet',  to  forbid. 

o'-ver-throw,  ruin ;  defeat.  o-ver-throw',  to  throw  doion. 


Question. — "Which  accent  has  the  more  forcible  stress  of  voice,  tho 
primary,  or  secondary  ?  What  effect  does  the  change  of  accent  on  tho 
Bame  word  produce  ?    Give  examples. 


20  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Note  III. — Emphatic  words  are  often  printed  in  Italics, 
When,  however,  different  degrees  of  emphasis  are  to  be  de- 
noted, the  higher  degrees  are  designated  by  the  use  of  Cap- 
itals, LARGER  or  smaller,  according  to  the  degree  of  in- 
tensity. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  To  arms  I  to  arms!  to  ARMS  I  they  cry. 

2.  Awake,  my  heart,  awake  I 
Green  vales  and  icy  cliffs,  all  join  my  hymn. 

3.  And  Agrippa  said  unto  Paul :  Almost  thou  persuadest  me  to  be  » 
Christian.  And  Paul  said :  I  would  to  God  that  not  only  thou,  but  also 
all  that  hear  me  this  day,  were  both  almost  and  altogether  such  as  I 
am,  except  these  bonds. 

4.  The  thing  that  hath  been,  it  is  that  which  shall  be,  and  that  which 
is  done,  is  that  which  shall  be  done,  and  there  ia  no  new  thing  under 
the  sun. 

Note  IV. — Emphasis,  as  before  intimated,  varies  in  de- 
grees of  intensity. 

EXAMPLES      OF      INTENSIVE     EMPHASIS. 

1.  Arm,  warriors,  ARM  for  the  conflict  I  * 

2.  The  war  is  inevitable — and  LET  it  come  I  I  repeat  it,  Sir, — LET 
IT  COME  I     Patrick  Henry. 

3.  I  know  not  what  course  others  may  take ;  but  as  for  me,  give  me 
LIBERTY,  or  give  me  DEATH  I     Idein. 

4.  The  conflict  deepens  I     On,  ye  brave, 
Who  rush  to  glory,  or  the  grave  I 

5.  If  I  were  an  American,  as  I  am  an  Englishman,  while  a  foreign 
troop  remained  in  my  country,  I  never  would  lay  down  my  arms. — 
NEVER,  NEVER,  never.     Pitt. 

Note  V. — Emphasis  sometimes  changes  the  seat  of  accent 
from  its  ordinary  position. 

Questions. — How  are  emphatic  words  often  denoted  ?  How  are  those 
denoted,  which  are  very  emphatic  ?  How  is  Emphasis  varied  ?  Repeat 
the  examples  of  u.tensive  emphasis.  What  effect  has  Emphasis  some- 
times on  accent  ?     Give  examples. 


FIFTHBOOK.  21 


EXAMPLES. 

1.  Ho  must  tra'creaso,  but  I  must  de'crease. 

2.  Joseph  attends  school  re^'ularly ;  but  "William,  tV'regularly. 

3.  Did  he  perform  his  part  grace' fully,  or  ww'graeefully  ? 

4.  There  is  a  difference  between  ^os'sibility  and  ^roft'abiUty. 

5.  "We  are  not  to  inquire  into  the  just'ice  or  zn 'justice,  the  hon'or  or 
<f?:5 'honor  of  the  deed;  nor  whether  it  waa  law'M.  or  tin'lawful,  wise  op 
ww'wise. 

Note  VI. — There  are  two  kinds  of  Emphasis  : — Absolute 
and  Antithetic.  Absolute  Emphasis  is  used  to  designate  the 
important  words  of  a  sentence,  without  any  direct  reference 
to  other  words. 

examples    of    absolute   emphasis. 

L  Be  we  mere, 

And  suffer  such  dishonor  ?    Men,  and  wash  not 
The  stain  away  in  blood  ? 
2.  Jb-morrow,  didst  thou  say?    To-morrow? 

It  is  a  period  nowhere  to  be  found 
In  all  the  hoary  registers  of  time.     Cotton. 
S.  I  shall  know  but  o?ie  country.     The  ends  /aim  at,  shall  be  "Mr 
Country's,  my  God's,  and  Truth's."     Webster. 

4.  I  was  bom  an  American ;  I  live  an  American ;  I  shall  die  an  Amer- 
ican.   Id. 

5.  Speak  out,  my  friends ;  would  you  exchange  it  for  the  demon's 
DRINK,  Alcohol?  A  shout,  like  the  roar  of  a  tempest,  answered 
"NO!' 

6.  You,  noble  Americans,  we  bless  in  the  name  of  the  God  of  liberty. 
Kossuth. 

1.  He  paused  a  moment,  and  with  an  enchanting  smile,  whispered 
Boftly  the  name,  "England!"  Louder  he  cried,  "  England  I"  He 
waved  his  handkerchief  and  shouted,  "  ENGLAND  1" 

8.  0  saceed  forms  I  how  proud  you  look  I 
How  high  you  lift  your  heads  into  the  sky ; 

How  huge  you  are  I  how  mighty  and  hovf  free!    Knowlea. 

9.  "Hold I"  Tyranny  cries ;  but  their  resolute  breath 
Sends  back  the  reply,  "INDEPENDENCE  or  DEATH  1" 


Questions. — How  many  kinds  of  Emphaaia  are  there  ?    What  ia  Ab- 
Bolute  Emphasis  ?    Give  examples. 


22  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Note  VII. — Antithetic  Emphasis  is  that  which  is  founded 
on  the  contrast  of  one  word  or  clause  with  another. 

EXAMPLES     OF     ANTITHETIC     EMPHASIS. 

1.  If  we  have  no  regard  for  our  own  character,  wo  ought,  at  least,  to 
regard  the  characters  of  others. 

2.  The  wicked  flee  when  no  man  purstieth ;  but  the  rCghieous  are  bold 
6S  a  lion.    Bible. 

3.  Living  I  shall  assert  it,  dying,  I  shall  assert  it.     Webster. 

4.  Tou  were  paid  to  fight  Alexander,  not  to  rail  at  hun. 

6.  He  is  the  propitiation  for  our  sins ;  and  not  for  ours  only,  but  for 
the  sins  of  the  whole  world.     Bible. 

6.   Te  worship  ye  know  not  what :  we  know  what  we  worship. 

Note,  VIII. — ^The  following  examples  contain  two  or  more 
gets  of  Antitheses. 

1.  I  will  make  the  stars  of  the  west  the  suns  of  the  east.    Kossuth. 

2.  "We  must  hold  them  as  we  hold  the  rest  of  mankind — enemies  in  war, 
in  peace,  friends.     Jefferson. 

3.  The  wise  man  is  happy  when  he  gains  his  own  approbation,  the  fool, 
when  he  gains  that  of  others. 

4.  Without  were  fightings,  within  were  fears.     Bible. 

6.  When  the  righteous  are  in  authority,  the  people  rejoice ;  but  when 
the  wicked  beareth  rule,  the  people  mourn.     Ibid. 

6.  Faithful  are  the  wounds  of  a  friend ;  but  the  kisses  of  an  enemy  are 
deceitful.    Ibid. 

1.  Set  honor  in  oree  eye,  and  death  in  the  other. 

And  I  will  look  on  both  indifferently. 

8.  A  man's  first  care  should  be  to  avoid  the  reproaches  of  hia  own 
heart ;  his  next,  to  escape  the  censure  of  the  world. 

9.  Religion  raises  men  above  themselves ;  irreligion  sinks  them  beneath 
the  brutes. 

10.  It  is  my  living  sentiment,  and,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  it  shall  be 
my  dying  sentiment ;  independence  now,  and  independence  forever  I 
Webster. 

Note  IX. — ^The  sense  of  a  passage  is  varied  by  changing 
the  place  of  the  emphasis. 

Questions. — What  is  Antithetic  Emphasis  ?  Give  examples.  What 
effect  has  a  change  of  Emphasis  on  tho  sense  of  a  passage  ?    Examples. 


FIFTHBOOK.  23 


EXAM  PLBS. 

1.  Has  James  seen  his  brother  to.day  ?    No ;  but  Charles  has. 

2.  Has  James  seen  liis  brother  to-day  ?  No ;  but  he  has  heard  from 
hiia. 

3.  Has  James  seen  his  brother  to-day  ?     No ;  but  he  saw  yours. 

4.  Has  James  aecn  his  brother  to-day?  No;  but  he  has  seen  hifl 
sister. 

5.  Has  James  seen  his  brother  to-day?  No;  but  he  saw  him  ye»- 
Urday. 

Remark. — ^To  determine  the  emphatic  words  of  a  sentence, 
as  well  as  the  degree  and  kind  of  emphasis  to  be  employed, 
the  reader  must  be  governed  wholly  by  the  sentiment  to  be 
expressed.  The  idea  is  sometimes  entertained,  that  emphasis 
consists  merely  in  loudness  of  tone.  But  it  should  be  borne 
in  mind,  that  the  most  intense  emphasis  may  often  be  eflfec- 
tively  expressed,  even  by  a  whisper. 


•^*  ♦  »»■ 


SECTION    III. 

INFLECTIONS. 

Inflections  are  turns  or  slides  of  tlie  voice, 
made  in  reading  or  speaking;   as,   Will  jou  go  to 

/>'  •        % 
4°  % 

Kew  or  to       •<=» 

All  the  various  sounds  of  the  human  voice  may  be  com- 
prehended under  the  general  appellation  of  toties.  The  prin- 
cipal modifications  of  these  tones  are  the  Monotone,  the 
Rising  Inflection,  the  Falling  Inflection,  and  the  Cibcum- 

FLEX. 

Question. — How  are  the  emphatic  words  of  a  sentence  determined  ? 
What  are  inflections  ?  What  are  the  principal  modifications  of  the  hu- 
man voice  ? 


24  SANDEES'     NEW     SERI"ES. 

The  Horizontal  Line  (  -  )  denotes  the  Monotone. 
The  Rising  Slide         (/  )  denotes  the  Rising  Inflection. 
The  Failing  Slide        (N  )  denotes  the  Falling  Inflection. 
The  Curve  (^)  denotes  the  Circumflex. 

The  Monotone  is  that  sameness  of  sound,  which 
arises  from  repeating  the  several  words  or  syllables  of  a 
passage  in  one  and  the  same  general  tone. 

Remark. — ^The  Monotone  is  employed  with  admirable  effect 
in  the  delivery  of  a  passage  that  is  solemn  or  sublime. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Man  that  is  b6rn  of  a  woman,  is  of  few  days  and  full  of  trouble. 
He  coragth  forth  like  a  flower,  and  is  ciit  down ;  be  fleeth  also  as 
a  shadow,  and  contintietb  not. 

2.  Man  dieth,  and  wasteth  away :  yea,  man  giveth  up  the  ghost, 
aud  where  is  he  ?  As  the  waters  fail  from  the  sea,  and  the  flood 
decayeth  and  drieth  Up,  so  man  lieth  down,  and  riseth  not ;  till 
the  heavens  be  no  more,  they  shall  not  awake,  nor  be  raised  out 
of  their  sleep. 

8.  For  thus  saiththe  high  and  lofty  one  that  inliahiteth  eternity, 
whose  name  is  Holy,  I  dwell  in  the  high  and  holy  place. 

4.  Lord,  thou  hast  been  our  dwelling-place  in  all  generations. 
Before  the  mountains  were  hrouglit  forth,  or  ever  thou  hadst 
formed  the  earth  and  the  world,  even  from  everlasting  to  ever- 
lasting, Thou  art  God.     Bible. 

5.  O  thou  that  rollest  above,  roUnd  as  thg  shield  of  my  fathers  I 
whence  are  thy  beams,  O  sun !  thy  everlasting  light  ?     Ossian. 

6.  High  on  a  throne  of  royal  state,  which  far 
Outshone  the  wealth  of  Ormus  or  of  Ind, 

Or  wliere  the  gorgeous  east,  with  richest  hand, 
Showers  on  her  kings  barbaric  peal  and  gold, 
Batau  exalted  sat !     Milton. 

Remark. — But  the  inappropriate  use  of  the  monotone, — a 
fault  into  which  young  people  naturally  fall,  is  a  very  grave 

Question. — How  are  they  sometimes  denoted  ?  What  is  the  Mono- 
tone? What  passages  should  bo  read  with  the  monotone?  Give 
examples  ? 


FIFTH     BOOK, 


26 


and  obstinate   error.     It  is  always  tedious,  and  often  even 
ridiculous.     It  should  be  studiously  avoided. 

The  Rising  Inflection  is  an  upward  turn,  or  slide 
of  the  voice,  used  in  reading  or  speaking ;  as,  Are  you 


A 


prepared  to  recite  your  V^ 

The  Falling  Inflection  is  a  downward  turn,  or 
elide  of  the  voice,  used  in  reading  or  speaking;  as, 


What  are  jou  '^ 

In  the  falling  inflection,  the  voice  should  not  sink  below  the 
general  pitch  ;  but  in  the  rising  inflection,  it  is  raised  above  it. 

The  two  inflections  may  be  illustrated  by  the  following 
diagrams ; 


1,  Did  he  act   ■^, 


2.  Did  they  go     -^^ 


He  acted 


^J 


% 


They  went 


'^^ 


•if 


3.  If  the  flight  of  Dryden  is   >^  Pope    continues  longer   on 


^> 


,>^^'> 


the  "^      If  the  blaze  of  Dryden's  fire  is     \>^^^        the  heat    of 


Pope's  is  more  regular  and      \<' 


Question. — ^What  is  the  Rising  Inflection  ?  "What  is  the  Falling  In- 
flection ?  In  the  falling  inflection  should  the  voice  sink  below  the  gene- 
ral pitch?    la  it  raised  above  the  general  pitch  in  the  rising  infloctioQ'if 


26  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

4.  And  hath  man  the  power,  with  his  pride  and  skill. 

To  arouse  all  nature  with  storms  at  will  ? 
Hath  he  power  to  color  the  summer  cloud, — 
To  allay  the  tempest,  when  hills  are  bowed? 
Can  he  waken  the  spring  with  her  festal  wreath  ? 
Can  the  sun  grow  dim  by  his  latest  breath  ? 
"Will  he  come  again  when  death's  vale  is  trod  ? 
Who  then  shall  dare  murmur, — '•  There  is  no  G6d  ?" 

Remark. — The  same  degree  of  inflection  is  not,  at  all  times, 
used,  or  indicated  by  the  notation.  The  due  degree  to  be 
employed,  depends  on  the  nature  of  what  is  to  be  expressed. 
For  example ;    if  a  person,   under  great   excitement,   aska 

another :  Are  you  in    ^     the  degree  of  inflection  would  be 

much  greater,  than  if  he  playfully  asks  :  Are  you  in    e* 
The    former  inflection  may   be    called   intensive^  the  latter, 
common. 


KULES  FOR  THE  USE  OF  INFLECTIONS. 
RULE   I. 

Direct  questions,  or  those  whicli  may  be  answered 
"by  yes  or  wo,  usually  take  the  rising  inflection  ;  but  their 
answers,  the  falling. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Will  you  send  me  those  flowers  ?    T^s  ;  or,  I  wilL 

2.  Did  you  give  me  seven  ?    No ;  I  gave  you  sLx. 

3.  Are  we  better  than  th6y  ?    No  ;  in  no  wise. 

4.  Is  he  the  God  of  the  Jews  6nly  ?  is  he  not  also  of  the  G6ntileB? 
T6s;  of  the  Gentiles  also. 

Questions. — 1&  the  same  degree  of  inflectioa  to  be  used  at  all  times? 
Repeat  Rule  I.    Give  examplea. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  27 

5.  Do  we  then  make  void  the  law  through  Ciith  7  God  forbid .  we 
establish  the  law.     Bible. 

6.  Will  he  plead  against  me  with  his  great  power  ?  No ;  but  he  will 
put  strength  in  me.     Id. 

1.  Wa-s  it  ambition  that  Induced  Regulus  to  return  to  Carthage  ?     No ; 
but  a  love  of  country  and  respect  for  truth — an  act  of  moral  sublimity, 
arising  out  of  the  firmest  integrity 
8  Ilark  1  cornea  there  from  the  pyramids 

"  And  from  Siberian  wastes  of  snow 
And  Europe's  hills ;  a  voice  that  bids 
The  world  be  awed  to  mourn  him  ?    No.    Pierponf. 

Note  I. — When  the  direct  question  becomes  an  appeal, 
and  the  reply  to  it  is  anticipated,  it  takes  the  intense  falling 
inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  "William,  did  we  not  recite  our  lessons  correctly  ? 

2.  Can  a  more  inconsifitent  argument  be  urged  in  its  favor  ? 

3.  Bid  he  not  perform  his  part  most  admirably  f 

4.  Was  the  Crystal  Palace  in  New  York,  equal  iu  size  to  that  in 
London  ? 

RULE    II. 
Indirect  questions,   or  those  whicli  can  not  be  an- 
swered bj  yes  or  no,  usually  take  the  falling  inflection, 
and  their  answers  the  same. 

EXAM  PLES. 

1.  How  many  lessons  have  you  learned  ?     Thrt'e. 

2.  "Which  has  the  most  credit  marks  to-day  ?    JuUa. 

3.  Where  did  your  father  go,  last  week  ?    To  Boston. 

4.  When  do  you  expect  him  to  return  ?     Next  week. 

5.  Who  first  discovered  America  ?    Christopher  Columbus. 

Note  I. — When  the  indirect  question  is  one  asking  a  rep©, 
tition  of  what  was  not,  at  first,  understood,  it  takes  the  rising 
inflection. 

Questions. — Does  the  direct  question  ever  require  the  falling  inflec- 
tion? Give  examples.  Repeat  Rule  II.  Give  examples.  Does  tha 
indirect  question  over  rcquiro  the  rising  inileetioa  ? 


28  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 


EXAMPLES. 

1.  "Where  did  you  find  those  flowers  ?    In  the  lawn- 
Whe7'e  did  you  s&y  ?     In  the  lawn. 

2.  When  did  you  say  congress  adjourned  ?    Last  week. 

Note  II. — Answers  to  questions,  whether  direct  or  indirect, 
when  expressive  of  indifference,  take  the  risififf  inflection,  or 
the  circumflex. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  "Where  shall  we  go  ?    I  am  not  particular. 

2.  Shall  "William  go  with  us  ?     If  he  choses. 

3.  "Which  do  you  prefer?    I  have  no  choice. 

4.  Did  you  care  for  his  friendship  ?    Not  miich. 

Note  III. — In  some  instances,  direct  questions  become  in- 
direct by  a  change  of  the  inflection  from  the  rising  to  the 
falling. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  "Will  you  come  to-morrow  or  next  day  ?    Tes. 

2.  "Will  you  come  to-morrow,  or  next  day  ?    I  will  come  to-morrow. 

Remark. — The  first  question  asks  if  the  person  addressed 
will  come  within  the  two  days,  and  may  be  answered  by  yes 
or  no  ;  but  the  second  asks  on  which  of  the  two  days  he  will 
come,  and  it  can  not  be  thus  answered. 

RULE    III. 
When  questions  are  connected  by  the  conjunction 
or^  the  first  requires  the  rising,  and  the  second,  \h.Q  fall- 
ing inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Does  Napoleon  merit  praise,  or  ct^nsure  7 

2.  "Was  it  an  act  of  moral  courage,  or  cowardice,  for  Cato  to  fall  on 
Lis  sword  ? 

Repeat  Note  II.     How  do  direct  questioas  become  indirect  V    "What 
is  Rule  IIL     Give  examples. 


FIFTHBOOK.  29 

3.  la  it  lawful  to  do  good  on  the  Sabbath  drfyg,  or  to  do  fivil  ?  to  8ave 
life,  or  to  kill?     Bible. 

4=.  Art  thou  he  that  should  come,  or  do  we  look  for  another? 

EULE    IV. 
Antithetic  terms  or  clauses  usually  take  opposite  in- 
flections ;  generally,  the  former  has  the  rising,  and  the 
latter  t\xQ  falling  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  It  appears  more  like  a  dream  than  real  life ;  more  like  a  romance 
than  a  dreadful  reality. 

2.  By  honor  and  dishonor,  by  evil  report  and  good  report ;  aa  deceiv- 
ers, and  yet  true ;  as  unknown,  and  yet  well  known ;  as  dying,  and  be- 
hold, we  live ;  as  chastened,  and  not  killed ;  as  sorrowful,  yet  always 
rejoicing ;  as  poor,  yet  making  many  rich ;  aa  having  nothing,  yet  pos- 
sessing all  things.    Bible. 

Note  I. — ^When  one  of  the  antithetic  clauses  is  a  negative, 
and  the  other  an  affirmative,  generally  the  negative  has  the 
rising,  and  the  affirmative  the  falling  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Aim  not  to  show  knowledge,  but  to  acquire  it. 

2.  Let  another  man  praise  thee,  and  not  thine  own  mouth ;  a  stranger, 
and  not  thine  own  lips. 

3.  You  should  not  say  goverment,  but  government. 

4.  Show  your  courage  by  your  de^ds,  not  by  your  words. 

RULE    V. 
The  Pause  of  Suspension,  denoting  that  the  sense  is 
incomplete,  usually  has  the  rising  inflexion. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Sir,  I  implore  gentlemen,  I  adjure  them  by  all  they  hold  dear  in 
this  world,  by  all  their  love  of  liberty,  by  all  their  veneration  for  their 

Repeat  Rule  IV.  Give  examples.  Repeat  Note  L,  and  examples. 
Repeat  Rule  V.,  and  examples. 


'^  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

dncestorg,  by  all  their  regard  for  posterity,  by  all  their  gratitude  to  Him 
■who  has  bestowed  on  them  such  unnumbered  and  countless  blt'-ssings, 
by  all  the  duties  which  they  owe  to  mankind,  and  by  all  the  duties 
"which  they  owe  to  themselves,  to  pause,  solemnly  pause  at  the  edge  of 
the  precipice,  before  the  fearful  and  dangerous  leap  is  taken  into  the 
yawning  abyss  below,  from  which  none  who  ever  take  it,  shall  return 
in  safety. 

Note  I. — The  ordinary  direct  address,  not  accompanied 
with  strong  emphasis,  takes  the  rising  inflection,  on  the  prin- 
ciple of  the  pause  of  suspension. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Ye  men  of  Judea,  and  all  ye  that  dwell  in  Jerusalem,  be  this  known 
unto  you,  and  hearken  to  my  words.     Bible. 

2.  Fight,  gentlemen  of  E'ngland  I  fight,  bold  yeoman  I 
Draw,  archers,  draw  your  arrows  to  the  head. 

Note  II. — In  some  instances  of  a  pause  of  suspension,  the 
sense  requires  an  intense/a/^r/i^  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  The  prodigal,  if  he  does  not  become  a  j?(iMper,  will,  at  least,  have  but 
little  to  bestow  on  others. 

Remark. — If  the  rising  inflection  is  given  on  pauper,  the 
sense  would  be  perverted,  and  the  passage  made  to  mean, 
that,  in  order  to  be  able  to  bestow  en  others,  it  is  necessary 
that  he  should  become  a  pauper. 

RULE   VI. 
Expressions  of  tenderness,  as  of  grief,  or  kindness, 
commonly  inclirte  the  voice  to  the  rising  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  0  my  son  Ab'salomI  my  son,  my  son  Ab'saloml  'Would  God  I 
had  died  for  thee,  Ab'salom,  my  son,  my  son  I     Bible. 

Note  I.,  and  examples.  Repeat  Note  II.,  and  example.  Rule  VL, 
and  example. 


FIFTHBOOK.  31 

RULE    YII. 

TLe  Penultimate  Pause,  or  tlie  last  but  one,  of  a  pas- 
sage, is  usually  preceded  bj  the  rising  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  The  changing'  seasons  declare  the  knowledge,  power,  ■wisdom,  and 
goodness  of  God. 

2.  "When  the  savage  provides  himself  with  a  hut  or  a  wigwam  for 
shelter,  or  that  he  may  store  up  his  provisions,  he  does  no  more  than  is 
done  by  the  rabbit,  the  beaver,  the  bee,  and  birds  of  every  species. 

Eemark. — ^The  rising  inflection  is  employed  at  the  penulti- 
mate pause  in  order  to  promote  variety,  since  the  voice  gene- 
rally falls  at  the  end  of  a  sentence. 

RULE    VIII. 
Expressions  of  strong  emotion,  as  of  anger  or  sur- 
prise, and  also  the  language  of  authority  and  reproach, 
are  expressed  witb  the  falling  inflection, 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Strike  for  your  homes  and  liberty, 

And  the  Heavens  you  worship  o'er  you  1 

2.  0  Fools  1  and  slow  of  heart  to  believe  all  that  the  prophets  have 
written  concerning  me  I     Bihle, 

3.  Hush  !  breathe  it  not  aloud, 
The  wild  winds  must  not  hear  it  I     Yet,  again, 
I  tell  thee — we  are  freeI 

4.  Arise!  shine!  for  thy  light  is  come,  and  the  gl6ry  of  the  Lord  is 
risen  upon  thee.     Bible. 

RULE    IX. 
An  emphatic  succession  of  particulars,  and  emphatic 
repetition,  require  the /aZ^iV?^  inflection. 


Rule  VIL,   and  examples.      Rule   VIII.,    and   examples.      Repeat 
Rule  IX, 


32  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 


EXAMPLES. 

1.  Hail,  holy  light  I  6ffspring  of  Heaven  first-bom, 
Or  of  the  eternal,  co-eternal  biiam. 

2.  The  tC-ar, 
The  groan,  the  knell,  the  pall,  the  bit^r, 
And  all  we  know,  or  dream,  or  f^ar 
Of  agony,  are  thine. 

Remark. — The  stress  of  voice  on  eacli  successive  particular, 
©r  repetition,  should  gradually  be  increased  as  the  subject 
advances. 

The  Circumflex  is  a  union  of  the  two  inflections  on 
the  same  word,  beginning  either  with  \hQ  falling  and 
ending  with,  the  rising^  or  with  tbe  rising  and  ending 

with,  the  falling  ;  as,  If  he  goes  to  ~^o  <^^  I  shall  go  to 

RULE    I 
The  circumflex  is  mainly  employed  in  the  language 
of  irony,  and  in  expressing  ideas  implying  some  con- 
dition, either  expressed  or  understood. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Nero  was  a  virtuous  prince ! 

2.  0,  excellent  interpreter  of  the  laws  I 

3.  Am  I  a  dog,  that  thou  comest  to  me  with  staves? 

4.  If  yoU  do  that,  we  will  do  this. 

5.  They  said,  too,  as  you  say :   "  It  is  our  destiny." 

6.  That  power  is  used  not  to  benefit  mankind,  but  to  crush  them. 

1.  It  has  been  said  t  Jiat  this  law  is  a  measure  of  peace  1  Yes ;  such 
peace  as  the  wolf  gives  lo  the  lamb — the  kite  to  the  dove ! 

8.  They  follow  an  adventurer,  whom  they  fear,  and  obey  a  power 
which  they  hate ;  we  serve  a  monarch  whom  we  love, — a  God  whom 
we  adore. 

Questions. — ^What  is  the  Circunaflex  ?  When  ia  the  circumflex  mainly 
employed?    Give  examples. 


FIFTH     BOOK. 


33 


Remark. — ^The  rising  inflection  and  circumflex  are  so  nearly 
allied,  that,  in  many  instances,  it  may  be  difiicult  to  determine 
which  should  receive  the  preference  in  the  reading  of  a  pas- 
sage. This  is  particularly  the  case  where  intense  inflection  is 
not  required.  But  the  difference  between  the  circumflex  and 
t\iQ  falling  inflection  is  so  obvious,  that  no  one  would  be  liable 
to  mistake  which  should  be  employed. 


SECTION   lY. 


MODULATION.' 

Modulation  implies  those  variations  of  tlie  voice, 
heard  in  reading  or  speaking,  whicli  are  prompted  by 
the  feelings  and  emotions  that  the  subject  inspires. 

EXAMPLES. 


FtTLL 

Tone. 

Middle 

Tone. 

Short 

AND 

Quick. 
High 

AND 

Loud. 
Quick 

AND 
VERY 

Loud. 


EXPRESSIVE  OF  COtTRAGE   AND   CHIVAIROUS   EXCITEMENT. 

Once  more  unto  the  breach,  dear  friends,  once  more. 

Or  close  the  wall  up  with  our  English  dead  I 
In  peace,  there 's  nothing  so  becomes  a  man, 

As  modest  stillness  and  humility ; 
'But  when  the  blast  of  war  blows  in  our  ears, 

Then  imitate  the  action  of  the  tiger ; 

Stiffen  the  sinews,  summon  up  the  blood, 

Disguise  fair  nature  with  hard-favored  rage. 

On,  ON,  you  noblest  English, 

Whose  blood  is  fetched  from  fathers  of  war-proof  I 

Fathers,  that,  like  so  many  Alexanders, 

Have,  in  these  parts,  from  morn  till  even  fought, 

And  sheathed  their  swords  for  lack  of  argument. 
'I  see  you  stand  like  greyhounds  in  the  slips, 

Straining  upoi;j  the  start.     The  game  's  afoot ; 

Follow  your  spirits,  and,  upon  this  charge, 

Cry — Heaven  for  Harry  1  England  1  and  St.  GeoeGb  I 

Shalcspeare. 


Questions. — What  is  Modulation  ?    Give  an  example^ 


34  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES, 

Remark. — ^To  read  the  foregoing  example  in  one  dull,  mo- 
notonous tone  of  voice,  without  regard  to  the  sentiment  ex- 
pressed, would  render  the  passage  extremely  insipid  and  life- 
less. But  by  a  proper  modulation  of  the  voice,  it  mfuses  into 
the  mind  of  the  reader  or  hearer  the  most  animating  and  ex- 
citing emotions. 

A  correct  modulation  of  the  voice  is  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant requisites  in  the  speaker.  For  if  the  voice  is  kept  for 
a  considerable  length  of  time  on  one  continuous  key  or  pitch, 
he  will  not  only  fail  to  present  that  variety  and  force  which 
the  subject  contains,  but  he  will  weary  both  himself  and  hia 
hearers. 

The  voice  is  modulated  in  three  different  ways.  First,  it  is 
varied  in  Pitch  ;  that  is,  from  high  to  low  tones,  and  the  re- 
verse. Secondly,  it  is  varied  in  Quantity,  or  in  loudness  or 
volume  of  sound.  Thirdly,  it  is  varied  in  Quality,  or  in  the 
kind  of  sound  expressed. 

PITCH    OF    VOICE. 

Pitch  of  Voice  lias  reference  to  its  degree  of  ele* 
Vation. 

Every  person,  in  reading  or  speaking,  assumes  a  certain 
pitch,  which  may  be  either  high  or  low,  according  to  circum- 
stances, and  which  has  a  governing  influence  on  the  variations 
of  the  voice,  above  and  below  it.  This  degree  of  elevation  is 
usually  called  the  Key  Note. 

As  an  exercise  in  varying  the  voice  in  pitch,  the  practice 
of  uttering  a  sentence  on  the  several  degrees  of  elevation,  as 
represented  in  the  following  scale,  will  be  found  beneficial. 
First,  utter  the  musical  syllables,  then  the  vowel  sound,  and 
lastly,  the  proposed  sentence, — ascending  and  descending. 

Questions. — In  how  many  ways  is  the  voice  modulated  ?  "What  is 
meant  by  pitch  of  voice  ?  What  practice  is  recommended  for  varying 
the  pitch  of  voice  ? 


FIFTHBOOK.  35 

-8. — do^^ — e-in-me. — ^Virtue  alone  survives. 


1.     si    (9    i  in  die.     Virtue  alone  survives. 
-6. — la — 0 — o-in-do. — Virtue   alone  survives. — 


5.     sol   ^    0  in  no.      Virtue  alone  survives. 
-4. — fa — 0 — a-in-at. — Virtue  alone  survives. — 


3.     mi   0    a  in  ate.     Virtue  alone  survives. 
-2. — re— iP — a-in-far. — ^Virtue  alone  survives. — 


1.    do    0    a  in.  all.    Virtue  alone  survives. 

Although  the  voice  is  capable  of  as  many  variations  in 
speaking,  as  are  marked  on  the  musical  scale,  yet  for  all  the 
purposes  of  ordinary  elocution,  it  will  be  sufficiently  exact  if 
we  make  but  three  degrees  of  variation,  viz.,  the  Low,  tha 
Middle,  and  the  High. 

1.  The  Low  Pitch  is  that  which  falls  below  the  usual 
speaking  key,  and  is  employed  in  expressing  emotions  of 
sublimity,  awe.  and  reverence. 

EXAMPLE  e. 

1.  It  thunders  I     Sons  of  dust  in  reverence  bow  F 
Ancient  of  Days  I  thou  speakest  from  above ; 
Almighty !     Trembling  like  a  timid  child  I 

I  hear  thy  awful  voice  I     Alarmed — afraid — 
I  see  the  flashes  of  thy  lightning  wild, 
And  in  the  very  grave  would  hide  my  head  I 

2.  The  Middle  Pitch  is  that  usually  employed  in  common 
conversation,  and  in  expressing  unimpassioned  thought  and 
moderate  emotion. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  When  the  sun  rises  or  sets  in  the  heavens,  when  spring  paints  the 
earth,  when  summer  shines  in  its  glory,  when  autumn  pours  forth  its 
fruits,  or  winter  retvu-ns  in  its  awful  forms,  we  view  the  Creator  mani- 
festing himself  in  his  works. 

2.  The  verdant  lawn,  the  shady  grove,  the  variegated  landscape,  the 
boundless  ocean,  and  the  starry  heavens,  are  contemplated  with  pleas- 
ure by  every  beholder. 

Questions. — ^What  is  the  Low  Pitch,  and  when  is  it  employed?  Give 
examples.    For  what  is  the  Middle  Pitch  employed  ?    Examples. 


6  SANDEKS'     NEW     SERIES. 


3.  The  High  Pitch  is  that  which  rises  above  the  usual 
speaking  key,  and  is  used  in  expressing  joyous,  and  elevated 
feelings. 

EXAMPLES. 

L  Te  crags  and  peaks,  I  'm  with  you  once  again  I 

I  hold  to  you  the  hands  you  first  beheld, 
To  show  they  still  are  free  1     Methinks  I  hear 
A  spirit  in  your  echoes  answer  me, 
And  bid  your  tenant  welcome  to  his  home 
Again  I  Knowles. 

QUANTITY. 

Quantity  has  reference  to  fullness  and  duration  of 
sound. 

Quantity  is  two-fold ; — consisting  in  fullness  or  volumk 
of  sound,  as  soft  or  loud ;  and  in  time,  as  slow  or  quick. 
The  former  has  reference  to  stress  ;  the  latter,  to  movement. 

The  degrees  of  variation  in  quantity,  are  numerous,  vary- 
ing from  a  slight,  soft  whisper,  to  a  vehement  shout.  But 
for  ail  practical  purposes,  they  may  be  considered  as  threey 
the  same  as  in  pitch ; — the  soft,  the  middle,  and  the  loud. 

For  exercise  in  quantity,  let  the  pupil  read  any  sentence ; 
as, 

"  Beauty  is  a  fading  flower," 

first  in  a  slight,  soft  tone,  and  then  repeat  it,  gradually  in- 
creasing in  quantity  to  the  full  extent  of  the  voice.  Also,  let 
him  read  it  first  very  slowly,  and  then  repeat  it  gradually 
increasing  the  movement.  In  doing  this,  he  should  be  careful 
not  to  vary  the  pitch. 

In  like  manner,  let  him  repeat  any  vowel  sound,  or  all  of 
them,  and  also  inversely.     Thus  : 

Question. — What  is  the  High  Pitch,  and  for  what  is  it  used  ?  Ex- 
amples,    What  is  meant  by  Quantity  ? 


FIFTHBOOE.  37 

ooooooOOOOO 

OOOOOOOOOOo 

Remark. — Quantity  is  often  mistaken  for  Pitch.  But  ifc 
should  be  borne  in  mind  that  quantity  has  reference  to  loud- 
ness or  volume  of  sound,  and  pitch  to  the  elevation  or  depress- 
ion of  a  tone.  The  difference  may  be  distinguished  by  the 
slight  and  heavy  strokes  on  a  bell  : — both  of  which  produce 
sounds  alike  in  pitch  ;  but  they  differ  in  quantity  or  loudness, 
in  proportion  as  the  strokes  are  light  or  heavy. 

EULES     FOR     QUANTITY. 

1.  Soft,  or  Subdued  Tones,  are  those  -whicTi  range 
from  a  whisper  to  a  complete  vocality,  and  are  used  to 
express  fear,  caution,  secrecy,  solemnity,  and  all  tender 
emotions. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  The  loud  -wind  dwindled  to  a  -whisper  low, 
And  sighed  for  pity  as  it  answered, — "  No," 

2.  Tread  softly — bow  the  head, — 

In  reverent  silence  bow, — 
No  passing  bell  doth  toll, — 
Tet  an  immortal  soul 
Is  passing  now. 

2.  A  Middle  Tone,  or  medium  loudness  of  voice, 
is  employed  in  reading  narrative,  descri;ptive,  or  didactic 
sentences. 

EXAMPLES  . 

1.  Vice  is  a  monster  of  so  frightful  mien, 
As,  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen  ; 
But,  seen  too  oft,  familiar  with  her  face, 
"We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace. 

2.  There  is  as  much  eloquence  in  the  tone  of  voice,  in  the  look,  and 
in  the  gesture  of  a  speaker,  as  in  the  choice  of  his  words. 

Questions. — What  la  the  difference  between  Quantity  and  Pitch? 
"What  are  soft,  or  subdued  Tones  used  to  express?  Give  examplea^ 
For  what  is  the  Middle  Tone  employed  ?    Give  examples, 


88  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

3.  A  Loud  Tone,  or  fullness  and  stress  of  voice,  is  used  in 
expressing  violent  passions  and  vehement  emotions, 

EXAMPLES. 

1>  And  once  again — 

Hear  me,  ye  walls,  that  echoed  to  the  tread 
Of  either  Brutus  I — once  again  I  swear, 
The  eternal  city  shall  be  free  I 
2.  On  whom  do  the  maledictions  fall,  usually  pronounced  in  our  as- 
semblies ?     Is  it  not  on  this  man  ?     Can  you  point  to  a  more  enormous 
instance  of  iniquity  in  any  speaker,  than  this  inconsistency  between  his 
words  and  actions. 

QUALITY. 

Quality  has  reference  to  the  hind  of  sound  uttered. 

Two  sounds  may  be  alike  in  quantity  and  pitch,  yet  differ 
in  quality.  The  sounds  produced  on  the  clarinet  and  flute, 
may  agree  in  pitch  and  quantity,  yet  be  very  unlike  in  qual- 
ity. The  same  is  often  true  in  regard  to  the  tones  of  the 
voice  of  two  individuals.  This  difference  is  occasioned 
mainly  by  the  different  positions  of  the  vocal  organs. 

The  qualities  of  voice  mostly  used  in  reading  or  speaking, 
and  which  should  receive  the  highest  degree  of  culture,  are 
the  Pure  Tone,  the  Orotund,  the  Aspirated,  and  the  QutturaL 

RULES     FOR     QUALITY. 

1.  The  Pure  Tone  is  a  clear,  smootli,  sonorous  flow 
of  sound,  usually  accompanied  with  the  middle  pitch  of 
voice,  and  is  adapted  to  express  emotions  of  joy,  cheeT' 
fulness,  love,  and  tranquillity. 

KZAMPLES. 

1.         There  is  joy  in  the  mountain — the  bright  waves  leap 
Like  a  bounding  stag  when  he  breaks  from  sleep ; 
Mirthfully,  wildly  they  flash  along — 
Let  the  heavens  ring  with  song  1 

Questions. — For  what  is  the  Loud  Tone  used?  Give  examples. 
"What  is  meant  by  Quality  ?  What  qualities  of  voice  should  receive  the 
highest  degree  of  culture  ?    What  is  said  of  the  Pure  Tone  ? 


FIFTH     BOOK.  89 

2.  The  Orotund  is  a  full,  deep,  round,  and  pure  tone 
of  voice,  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  expression  of  sublime 
and  pathetic  emotions, 

EXAMPLES. 

1.         'Tis  midnight's  holy  hour — and  silence  now 
Is  brooding  like  a  gentle  spirit  o'er 
The  still  and  pulseless  world.     Hark  I  on  the  winds 
The  bell's  deep  tones  are  swelling, — 'tis  the  knell 
Of  the  departed  year  I 

8.  The  Aspirated  Tone  of  voice  is  not  a  pure,  vocal 
sound,  but  rather  a  forcible  breathing  utterance,  and  is 
used  to  express  amazement,  fear^  terror^  anger^  revenge^ 
remorse,  imA  fervent  emotions^ 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Oh,  coward  conscience,  how  dost  thou  affright  me  I 
The  lights  burn  blue.     It  is  now  dead  midnight; 
Cold,  fearful  drops  stand  on  my  trembling  flesh. 

2.  For  this,  of  all  their  wrongs  the  worst 
Great  Spirit,  let  them  be  accursed. 

4.  The  Guttural  Quality  is  a  deep,  aspirated  tone 
of  voice,  used  to  express  aversion,  hatred,  loathing,  and 
contempU 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Thou  worm  I  thou  viper  1  to  thy  native  earth 
Return  1  Away  I  Thou  art  too  base  for  man 
To  tread  upon  I     Thou  scum  I     Thou  reptile  I 

2.  Tell  me  I  hate  the  bowl  ? 

Hate  is  a  feeble  word : 
I  loathe,  abhor,  my  very  soul 

With  strong  disgust  is  stirred, 
Whene'er  I  see,  or  hear,  or  tell, 
Of  the  dark  beverage  of  hell  1 

Questions. — ^What,  of  the  Orotund  voice  ?  Give  an  example  of  the 
Orotund  voice.  Describe  the  Aspirated  Tone  of  voice.  What  is  it  used 
to  express?  Give  examples.  What  is  said  of  the  Guttural  Quality? 
Give  examples. 


40  SANDEES'     NEW     SERIES. 

Remark. — Whenever  a  habit  of  reading  or  speaking  in  a 
nasal,  shrill,  harsh,  or  rough  tone  of  voice  is  contracted  by 
the  pupil,  no  pains  should  be  spared  in  eradicating  it,  and  in 
securing  a  clear,  full,  round,  and  flexible  tone. 

NOTATION     IN     MODULATION. 

(°)high.  (^.  )soft. 

(  °°)  high  and  loud.  (/'i'-)  "^ery  soft. 

(  o  )  ^'^^-  (  /  )  loud. 

(  oo)  low  and  loud.  (  /•  )  "^^^7  loud. 

(  =  )  quick.  (  j9?.  )  plaintive. 

(  "  )  short  and  quick,  (  <  )  increase. 

(s^.)  slow.  •      (  >  )  decrease. 

EXAMPLES     FOR     EXERCISE      IN     MODULATIOIT. 

(^.)        Soft  is  the  strain  when  zephyr  gently  blows, 

And  the  smooth  stream  in  smoother  numbers  flows ; 

(/)         But  when  loud  surges  lash  the  sounding  shore, 

The  hoarse  rough  verse  should  like  the  torrent  roar. 

(5?.)        "WTien  Ajax  strives  some  rocks  vast  weight  to  throw, 
The  line,  too,  labors,  and  the  words  move  slow ; 

(=)        Not  so,  when  swift  Camilla  scours  the  plain, 

Plies  o'er  the  unbending  com,  and  skims  along  the  maim 

(°°)  Quick!     Man  the  boat!     Away  they  spring 

The  stranger  ship  to  aid, 
And  loud  their  hailing  voices  ring, 
As  rapid  speed  they  made. 

(*'•)  All  dead  and  silent  was  the  earth, 

In  deepest  night  it  lay ; 
The  Eternal  spoke  Creation's  word, 
And  called  to  being — Day  I 
(::==)  It  streamed  from  on  high, 

All  reddening  and  bright, 
And  angel's  song  welcomed 
The  new-born  hght. 


FIFTHBOOK.  41 

(oo)  Strike — till  the  last  armed  foo  expires  I 

Strike — for  your  altars  and  your  fires  I 
Strike — for  the  green  graves  of  your  sires  I 
God,  and  your  native  land]        Ealkck. 

(.?Z.)  Long  years  have  passed, — and  I  behold 

My  father's  elms  and  mansions  old, — 
The  brook's  bright  wave ; 
( pi.)  Uut,  ah  I  the  scenes  which  fancy  drew,  , 

Deceived  my  heart, — the  friends  I  knew,  i 

Are  sleeping  now  beneath  the  yew, — 
(o)  Low  in  the  grave.  Hesp. 

( < )  Shall  man,  the  possessor  of  so  many  noble  faculties,  with  all  the 
benefits  of  learning  and  experience,  have  less  memory,  less  gratitude, 
less  sensibility  to  danger  than  the  beasts  1  (  <  )  Shall  man,  bearing 
the  image  of  his  Creator,  sink  thus  low  ? 

Thomas  K  Benton. 

(>)  The  thunders  hushed, — 

The  trembling  lightning  fled  away  in  fear,— 
(j9.)  The  foam-capt  surges  sunk  to  quiet  rest, — 

The  raging  winds  grew  still, — 
{pp.)  There  was  a  calm  I 

(  "  )  Hark  I  a  brazen  voico 

Swells  from  the  valley,  hke  the  clarion 

That  calls  to  battle.     Skirting  all  the  hills, 
(  =  )        Speeds  the  blithe  tone,  and  wakes  an  answer  up 

In  rock  and  forest,  till  the  vale  hath  talked 

"With  all  its  tongues,  and  in  the  fastnesses 

Of  the  far  dingle,  {p.)  faint  and  {pp.)  fainter  heard, 
(>)         Dies  the  last  sullen  echo. 

He  said,  and  on  the  rampart  hights  arrayed 

His  trusty  warriors,  few,  but  undismayed  ; 
{d)  Firm-paced  and  slow,  a  horrid  front  they  form, 

{pp.)        Still  as  the  breeze,  (oo)  but  dreadful  as  the  storm  f 
{po)        Low,  murmuring  sounds  along  their  banners  fly, 
(ff.)  Eevenge,  or  DEATH ! — the  watchword  and  reply; 

(o*)         Then  pealed  the  notes,  omnipotent  to  charm, 
(/)  And  the  loud  tocsin  tolled  their  laat  alarm  I  CampbeU 


42  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

{  ?i )  Eol  sound  the  tocsin  from  the  tower, — 

And  fire  the  culverin, — 
Bid  each  retainer  arm  with  speed, — 

Call  every  vassal  in. 
Up  with  my  banner  on  the  wall, — 

The  banquet  board  prepare, — 
Throw  wide  the  portal  of  my  hall, 

And  bring  my  armor  there  I         A.  G.  Ghreene. 

(°°)  The  combat  deepens !     On  I  te  brave  I 

Who  rush  to  glory,  or  the  grave  I 
iff-)  Wave,  Munich,  all  thy  banners  wave  1 

And  CHARGE  with  all  thy  Chivalry  I 
(jpl.)  Ahl  few  shall  part  where  many  meet! 

The  snow  shall  be  their  winding  sheet, 
And  every  turf  beneath  their  feet 

Shall  be  a  soldier's  sepulcherl         Gaw.pheU. 

{si)    At  length  o'er  Columbus  slow  consciousness  breaks, 

(°")     "Land  I    land  I"    cry    the    sailors;    (/.)    "landI     land  I— he 

awakes, — 
(")    He  runs, — yes  I  behold  it  I  it  blesseth  his  sight! 
The  laud  I  0  dear  spectacle  1  transport  I  delight  I 

(«'.)    His  speech  was  at  first  low-toned  and  slow.     Sometimes  his  voice 
would  deepen,  (oo)  like  the  sound  of  distant  thunder;  and  anon,  (")  his 
flashes  of  wit  and  enthusiasm  would  light  up  the  anxious  faces  of  hia 
hearers,  {<)  like  the  far-off  lightmng  of  a  coming  storm- 
He  woke  to  hear  his  sentry's  shriek, 
(00)      To  arms!  they  come,  (/.)  the  Greek!  the  GREEK  I 

(°°)      Huzza  for  the  sea !  the  all-glorious  sea  I 

Its  might  is  so  wondrous,  its  spirit  so  free ! 
(")       And  its  billows  beat  time  to  each  pulse  of  my  soul, 

Which,  impatient,  like  them,  can  not  yield  to  control. 

(,")       Away!  away!  o'er  the  sheeted  ice, 
Away  I  away !  we  go ; 
On  our  steel-bound  feet  we  move  as  fleet 
As  deer  o'er  the  Lapland  snow. 


FIFTHBOOK.  43 

SECTION    y. 

THE     RHETORICAL     PAUSE. 

Rhetorical  Pauses  are  those  whicli  are  frequentlj 
required  bj  the  voice  in  reading  and  speaking,  although 
the  construction  of  the  passage  admits  of  no  grammat- 
ical pause. 

These  pauses  are  as  manifest  to  the  ear,  as  those  which  are 
made  by  the  comma,  semicolon,  or  other  grammatical  pauses, 
though  not  commonly  denoted  in  like  manner  by  any  visible 
sign,     hi  the  following  examples  they  are  denoted  thus,  (  |j  ), 

EXAMPLES. 

1.   And  there  lay  the  steed|  with  his  nostril  all  wide, 

But  through  them  there  rolled||  not  the  breath  of  his  pride ; 
And  the  foam  of  his  gasping||  lay  white  on  the  turf, 
And  cold  as  the  8pray||  of  the  rock-beaten  surf. 

This  pause  is  generally  made  before  or  after  the  utterance 
of  some  important  word  or  clause,  on  which  it  is  especially 
desired  to  fix  the  attention.  In  such  cases  it  is  usually  d». 
noted  by  the  use  of  the  dash  ( — ). 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Earth's  highest  station  ends  in — "  Here  he  lies  !" 

2.  And,  lo  I  the  rose,  in  crimson  dressed, 
Leaned  sweetly  on  the  lily's  breaat, 

And  blushing,  murmured — "  Light  f* 

S.  The  path  of  wisdom  is — the  will  of  God. 

4.  There,  in  his  darli,  carved  oaken  chair 

Old  Rudiger  sat — dead  1  A.  G.  Ch'eene. 

Questions. — ^What  are  Rhetorical  Pauses?  "What  is  said  of  this 
pause?  Give  an  example.  "When  ia  the  Rhetorical  Pause  generally 
tnade?     Give  examples. 


44  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

No  definite  rule  can  be  given  with  reference  to  the  length 
of  the  rhetorical,  or  grammatical  pauses.  The  correct  taste 
of  the  reader  or  speaker  must  determine  it.  For  the  voice 
should  sometimes  be  suspended  much  longer  at  the  same 
pause  in  one  situation  than  in  another  j  as  in  the  two  fol- 


lowing 

EXAMPLES. 
LONG   PAUSE. 

Pause  a  moment.  I  heard  a  footstep.  Listen  now.  T  heard  it  again; 
but  It  is  going  from  us.     It  sounds  fainter, — still  fainter.     It  is  gone. 

SHORT   PAUSE. 

John,  be  quick.  Get  some  water.  Throw  the  powder  overboard- 
"  It  can  not  he  reached."  Jump  into  the  boat,  then.  Shove  off.  There 
goes  the  powder.     Thank  Heaven.     "We  are  saf& 


Questions. — Are  the  Rhetorical,  or  Grammatical  Pauses  always  of  tha 
same  length  ?     Give  examples  of  a  Long  Pause.     Of  a  Short  Pause. 


HEMARK     TO     TEACHERS. 

It  is  of  the  utmost  importance,  in  order  to  secure  an  easy 
and  elegant  style  of  utterance  in  reading,  to  refer  the  pupil 
often  to  the  more  important  principles  involved  in  a  just 
elocution.  To  this  end,  it  will  be  found  very  advantageous, 
occasionally  to  review  the  rules  and  directions  given  in  tha 
preceding  pages,  and  thus  early  accustom  him  to  apply  theiu 
in  the  subsequent  reading  lessons. 


THE 


SCHOOL  READER 


FIFTH  BOOK, 
PART     SECOND 


LESSON    U 


Explanatory  Notes.— 1.  Ho'  mer.    See  Note,  page  432. 

2.  Vau  clus6'  is  pronounced  Vo  cluse'.  The  word  signifies  inchsed 
valley,  or  inclosed  in  a  valley.  It  is  the  name  of  a  small  village  in  the 
south-eastern  part  of  France,  near  which  is  a  fountain  of  the  same  name, 
which  is  the  source  of  the  httle  river  Sorgues.  The  river,  after  forming 
several  beautiful  cascades,  runs  about  ten  miles  through  a  romantic 
country,  and  finally  enters  the  Rhone.  Yaucluse  is  celebrated  for  the 
loves  of  Petrarch  and  Laura. 

3.  Sir  Wal'ter  Scott.     See  Note,  page  199. 

4.  "Will'  iam  Words'  worth,  a  distinguished  poet  of  England,  was 
born  in  the  county  of  Cumberland,  April  Tth,  1770. 

5.  Raph'ael.     See  Note,  page  105. 

6.  Arabesques,  {Ar'  a  besks,)  are  flower-pieces,  or  fanciful  combinations, 
in  painting  or  sculpture,  consisting  of  stalks,  stems,  tendrils,  fohage  and 
fruit,  with  which  the  Saracens  or  Arabians  of  Spain,  used  to  decorate  their 
structures.  No  man,  or  beast  of  any  kind,  was  found  in  them,  because 
their  religion  forbade  the  representation  of  animals. 

7.  At'  til  a  was  a  formidable  leader  of  the  Huns.  His  ruthless  and  im- 
placable spirit  procured  for  him  the  appellation, — Scourge  of  God.  He 
died  Aimo  Domini,  453. 

THERE    IS    A    SPIRIT    IN    MAN. 

GEORGE   BANCROFT. 

1.  The  material  world  does  not  cbano-e  in  its  masses  or  in 
its  powers.  The  stars  shine  with  no  more  hister  than  when 
they  first  sang  together  in  the  glory  of  their  birth.  The 
flowers  that  gemmed  the  fields  and  the  forests,  before  America 
was  discovered,  now  bloom  around  us  in  their  season.     The 


46  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

sun  that  shone  on  Homer',  shines  on  us  in  unchanging  hister. 
The  bow  that  beamed  on  the  patriarch,  still  glittei's  in  the 
clouds.  Nature  is  the  same.  For  her  no  new  forces  are  gen- 
erated ;  no  new  capacities  are  discovered.  The  earth  turns 
on  its  axis,  and  perfects  its  revolutions,  and  renews  its  seasons, 
without  increase  or  advancement. 

2.  But  a  like  passive  destiny  does  not  attach  to  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  earth.  For  them  the  expectations  of  social  im- 
provement are  no  delusion ;  the  hopes  of  philanthropy  are 
more  than  a  dream.  The  five  senses  do  not  constitute  the 
vi^hole  inventory  of  our  sources  of  knowledge.  They  are  the 
organs  by  which  thought  connects  itself  with  the  external  uni- 
verse ;  but  the  power  of  thought  is  not  merged  in  the  exercise 
of  its  instruments.  We  have  functions  which  connect  us  with 
heaven,  as  well  as  organs  which  set  us  in  relation  with  earth. 
We  have  not  merely  the  senses  opening  to  us  the  external 
world,  but  an  internal  sense,  which  places  us  in  connection 
with  the  world  of  intelligence  and  the  decrees  of  God. 

3.  There  is  a  spirit  in  man  :  not  in  the  privileged  few  ;  not 
ill  those  of  us  only  who,  by  the  favor  of  Providence,  have  been 
nursed  in  public  schools :  it  is  in  man  :  it  is  the  attribute  of 
the  race.  The  spirit,  which  is  the  guide  to  truth,  is  the  gra- 
cious gift  to  each  member  of  the  human  family. 

4.  Reason  exists  within  every  breast.  I  mean  not  that 
faculty  which  deduces  inferences  from  the  experience  of  the 
senses,  but  that  higher  faculty,  which,  from  the  infinite  treas- 
ures of  its  own  consciousness,  originates  truth,  and  assents  to 
it  by  the  force  of  intuitive  evidence  ;  that  faculty  which  raises 
us  beyond  the  control  of  time  and  space,  and  gives  us  faith  in 
things  eternal  and  invisible.  There  is  not  the  difference 
between  one  mind  and  another,  which  the  pride  of  philoso- 
phers might  conceive.  To  them  no  faculty  is  conceded,  which 
does  not  belong  to  the  meanest  of  their  countrymen.  In  them 
there  can  not  spring  up  a  truth,  which  does  not  equally  have 
its  germ  in  every  mind.  They  have  not  the  power  of  crea- 
tion ;  they  can  but  reveal  what  God  has  implanted  in  every 
breast. 


FIFTHBOOK,  47 

5.  The  intellectual  functions,  by  wliicK  relations  are  per- 
ceived, are  the  common  endowments  of  the  race.  The  differ- 
ences are  apparent,  not  real.  The  eye  in  one  person  may 
be  dull,  in  another  quick,  in  one  distorted,  and  in  another  tran- 
quil and  clear ;  yet  the  relation  of  the  eye  to  light  is  in  all 
men  the  same.  Just  so  judgment  may  be  liable  in  individ- 
ual minds  to  the  bias  of  passion,  and  yet  its  relation  to  truth 
is  immutable,  and  is  universal. 

6.  In  questions  of  practical  duty,  conscience  is  God's  umpire, 
whose  light  illumines  every  heart.  There  is  nothing  in  books, 
■which  had  not  first,  and  has  not  still  its  life  within  us»  Re- 
ligion itself  is  a  dead  letter,  wherever  its  truths  are  not  renewed 
in  the  soul.  Individual  conscience  may  be  corrupted  by  in- 
terest, or  debauched  by  pride,  yet  the  rule  of  morality  is  dis- 
tinctly marked  ;  its  harmonies  are  to  the  mind  like  music  to 
the  ear  ;  and  the  moral  judgment,  when  carefully  analyzed  and 
referred  to  its  principles,  is  always  founded  in  right. 

1.  The  eastern  superstition,  which  bids  its  victims  prostrate 
themselves  before  the  advancing  car  of  their  idols,  springs  from 
a  noble  root,  and  is  but  a  melancholy  perversion  of  that  self- 
devotion,  which  enables  the  Christian  to  bear  the  cross,  and 
subject  his  personal  passions  to  the  will  of  God.  Immorality 
of  itself  never  won  to  its  support  the  inward  voice  ;  conscience, 
if  questioned,  never  forgets  to  curse  the  guilty  wnth  the  mem- 
ory of  sin,  to  cheer  the  upright  with  the  meek  tranquillity  of 
approval.  And  this  admirable  power,  which  is  the  instinct  of 
Deity,  is  the  attribute  of  every  man ,  it  knocks  at  the  palace 
gate  ;  it  dwells  in  the  meanest  hovel.  Duty,  like  death,  enters 
every  abode,  and  delivers  its  message.  Conscience,  like  reason 
and  judgment,  is  universal. 

8.  That  the  moral  affections  are  planted  everywhere,  needs 
only  to  be  asserted  to  be  received.  The  savage  mother  loves 
her  offspring  with  all  the  fondness  that  a  mother  can  know. 
Beneath  the  odorous  shade  of  the  boundless  forests  of  Chili, 
the  native  youth  repeats  the  story  of  love  as  sincerely  as  it 
was  ever  chanted  in  the  valley  of  Vaucluse.^  The  affections 
of  family  are  not  the  growth  of  civilization.     The  charities  of 


48  SANDERS'    NEW     SERIES. 

life  are  scattered  everywhere ;  enameling  the  vales  of  human 
being,  as  the  flowers  paint  the  meadows.  They  are  not  the 
fruit  of  study,  nor  the  privilege  of  refinement,  but  a  natural 
instinct. 

9.  Our  ag;e  has  seen  a  revolution  in  works  of  imamnation. 
The  poet  has  vsought  his  theme  in  commou  life.  Never  is  the 
genius  of  Scott^  more  pathetic,  than  when,  as  in  the  Antiquary, 
he  delineates  the  sorrows  of  a  poor  fisherman,  or,  as  in  the 
Heart  of  Mid  Lothian,  he  takes  his  heroine  from  a  cottage. 
And  even  Wordsworth,*  the  purest  and  most  original  poet  of 
the  day,  in  spite  of  the  inveterate  character  of  his  political  pre- 
dilections, has  thrown  the  light  of  genius  on  the  walks  of  com- 
monest life  ;  he  finds  a  lesson  in  every  grave  of  the  village 
church-yard ;  he  discloses  the  boundless  treasures  of  feeling  in 
the  peasant,  the  laborer  and  the  artisan;  the  strolling  peddler 
becomes,  through  his  genius,  a  teacher  of  the  sublimest  mo- 
rality ;  and  the  solitary  wagoner,  the  lonely  shepherd,  even 
the  feeble  mother  of  an  idiot  boy,  furnishes  lessons  in  the  rev- 
erence for  Humanity. 

10.  If  from  things  relating  to  truth,  justice,  and  aff'ection, 
we  turn  to  those  relating  to  the  beautiful,  we  may  here  still 
further  assert,  that  tlie  sentiment  for  the  beautiful  resides  in 
every  breast.  The  lovely  forms  of  the  external  world  delight 
us  from  their  adaptation  to  our  powers. 

"  Yea,  what  were  mighty  Nature's  self  7 
Her  features  could  they  win  us, 
Unhelped  by  the  poetic  voice 
That  hourly  speaks  within  us  ?" 

ll.*The  Indian  mother,  on  the  borders  of  Hudson's  Bay, 
decorates  her  manufactures  with  inixenious  devices  and  lovelv 
colors,  prompted  by  the  same  instinct  which  guided  the  pencil 
and  mixed  the  colors  of  Raphael.'*  The  inhabitant  of  Nootka 
Sounds  tattoos  his  body  with  the  method  of  harmonious  Ara- 
besques." Every  form,  to  which  the  hands  of  the  artist  have 
ever  given  birth,  sprung  first  into  being  as  a  conception  of  his 
mind,  from  a  natural  faculty,  which  belongs  not  to  the  artist 
exclusively,  but  to  man.     Beauty,  like  truth  and  justice,  lives 


FIFTHBOOK.  49 

within  us ;  like  virtue  and  like  moral  law,  it  is  a  companion  of 
the  soul.  The  power  which  leads  to  the  production  of  beauti- 
ful forms,  or  to  the  perception  of  them  in  the  works  Avhich 
God  has  made,  is  an  attribute  of  Humanity. 

12.  But  I  am  asked  if  I  despise  learning  ?  Shall  one  who 
has  spent  much  of  his  life  in  Schools  and  Univei-sities,  plead  the 
equality  of  uneducated  nature  ?  Is  there  no  difference  between 
the  man  of  refinement  and  the  savage  ?  "  I  am  a  man,"  said 
Black  Hawk  nobly  to  the  Chief  of  the  first  Republic  in  the 
world ;  "  I  am  a  man,"  said  the  barbarous  chieftain,  "  and  you 
are  another." 

13.  I  speak  for  the  universal  diffusion  of  human  powers,  not 
of  human  attainments ;  for  the  capacity  for  progress,  not  for 
the  perfection  of  undisciplined  instincts.  The  fellowship  which 
we  should  cherish  with  the  race,  receives  the  Camanche  war- 
rior and  the  Caffre  within  the  pale  of  equality.  Their  func- 
tions may  not  have  been  exercised,  but  they  exist.  Immure  a 
person  in  a  dungeon ;  as  he  comes  to  the  light  of  day,  his  vis- 
ion seems  incapable  of  performing  its  office.  Does  that  destroy 
your  conviction  in  the  relation  between  the  eye  and  light  ? 

14.  The  rioter  over  his  cups  resolves  to  eat  and  drink  and 
be  merry  ;  he  forgets  his  spiritual  nature  in  his  obedience  to 
the  senses ;  but  does  that  destroy  the  relation  between  con- 
science and  eternity  ?  "  What  ransom  shall  we  give  ?"  ex- 
claimed the  senators  of  Rome  to  the  savage  Attila.'  "  Give," 
said  the  barbarian,  "  all  your  gold  and  jewels,  your  costly  fur- 
niture and  treasures,  and  set  free  every  slave."  "  Ah,"  replied 
the  degenerate  Romans,  "  what  then  will  be  left  to  us  ?"  "  I 
leave  you  your  souls,"  replied  the  unlettered  invader  from  the 
r.teppes  of  Asia,  who  had  learned  in  the  wilderness  to  value  the 
immortal  mind,  and  to  despise  the  servile  herd,  that  esteemed 
only  their  fortunes,  and  had  no  true  respect  for  themselves. 

15.  You  can  not  discover  a  tribe  of  men,, but  you,  also,  find 
the  charities  of  life,  and  the  proofs  of  spiritual  existence.     Be- 

hold  the  ignorant  Algonquin  deposit  a  bow  and  quiver  by  the  f 

side  of  the  departed  warrior  ;  and  recognize  his  faith  in  immor- 
tality.    See  the  Camanche  chieftain,  in  the  heart  of  our  con- 

3 


50  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

tinent,  inflict  on  himself  severest  penance ;  and  reverence  his 
confession  of  the  needed  atonement  for  sin.  The  Barbarian 
wlio  roams  our  western  prairies,  has  like  passions  and  like  en- 
dowments with  ourselves.  He  bears  within  him  the  instinct  of 
Deity ;  the  consciousness  of  a  spiritual  nature ;  the  love  of 
beauty ;  the  rule  of  morality. 

16.  And  shall  we  reverence  the  dark-skinned  Caffre  ? 
Shall  we  respect  the  brutal  Hottentot  ?  You  may  read  the 
right  answer  written  on  every  heart.  It  bids  me  not  despise 
the  sable  hunter  that  gathers  a  livelihood  in  the  forests  of 
Southern  Africa.  All  are  men.  When  we  know  the  Hotten- 
tot better,  we  shall  despise  him  less. 


«« ♦  •*■ 


LESSOK  lU 

1.  Thermop'tl^.     See  Note,  page  T5. 

2.  Leon' I  das.     Sec  Note,  page  75. 

SUCCESS;  THE  RESULT  OF  APPLICATION  AND  PERSEVERANCE. 

EDWARD   HITCHCOCK. 

1.  Among  the  vast  numbers  of  men  capable  of  rising  to  emi- 
nence in  art,  science,  or  literature,  and  of  making  a  deep  im- 
pression on  the  world,  how  few  confer  any  lasting  benefit  upon 
their  generation,  by  their  works,  inventions,  or  discoveries ! 
And  it  seems  to  me  that  the  want  of  perseverance — in  other 
words,  indolence  and  irresolution — is  the  principal  cause  of 
their  failure.  Go  to  the  primary  school,  and,  ainong  a  hundred 
boys,  you  will  usually  find  fifty  exhibiting  nearly  equal  natural 
abilities,  and  making  equal  progress  in  learning, 

2.  In  the  academy  and  the  college  you  will  find  as  large  a 
proportion,  between  whose  talents  and  scholarship  you  will  see 
scarcely  any  difference.  Year  after  year,  they  will  move  for- 
ward shoulder  to  shoulder,  and  come  to  the  end  of  their  liter- 
ary course  so  nearly  abreast,  that  it  requires  a  nice  application 
of  the  merit  guage  to  give  them  a  difference  of  rank  on  the 
scale  of  honorary  appointments ;  and  the  most  sagacious  appli- 
cSlKon  of  the  doctrine  of  probabilities  will  not  enable  any  one 
to  predict  with  confidence  which  of  them  will  be  distinguished 
above  his  fellows  in  future  life. 


FIFTH      BOOK.  51 

3.  But  let  tlie  history  of  those  boys  and  young  men,  whether 
from  the  primary  school,  the  academy,  or  the  college,  be  con- 
sulted at  the  end  of  their  lives,  and  you  will  scarcely  find  a 
dozen,  out  of  a  hundred,  who  have  risen  to  high  distinction  in 
their  business  or  profession,  or  made  valuable  discoveries,  or 
left  a  deep  impression  upon  the  world.  The  others  may  have 
done  much  good ;  but  why  have  they  not  don.e  as  much  as 
their  dozen  comrades,  who,  during  the  years  of  their  element- 
ary education,  were  not  able  to  outstrip  them  ? 

4.  We  must  allow  something  for  feeble  health,  and  other  un- 
foreseen difficulties,  hedging  up  the  path  of  a  few.  But  in  re- 
spect to  the  great  body  of  these  men,  diflference  in  application 
and  perseverance  will  alone  explain  their  difference  of  success. 
The  twelve  had  acquired,  during  their  early  days,  an  ardent 
love  of  knowledge,  and  a  deep  sense  of  their  responsibilities  to 
God  and  the  world,  and  the  result  was,  a  stronp-  determination 
to  make  use  of  the  vantage  ground  which  they  had  attained, 
for  pushing  their  conquests  still  farther  into  the  dominions  of 
art  and  science. 

5.  Having  prepared  themselves  by  an  elementary  acquaint- 
ance with  the  circle  of  knowledge,  they  selected  some  parti- 
cular department,  to  which  taste  or  duty  invited,  and  concen- 
trated their  energies  upon  its  thorough  examination  ;  being- 
convinced  that  he  who  attempts  to  master  all  subjects,  though 
he  may  become  respectable  in  all,  can  be  accurate  and  success- 
ful in  none.  Having  ••chosen  their  field,  they  went  about  its 
exploration  as  a  business  for  life. 

6.  The  morning's  dawn  and  the  evening's  darkness  found 
them  still  at  their  work.  Those  seasons  which  most  men 
devote  to  relaxation,  witnessed  in  them  little  more  than  a 
change  of  objects,  whereby  their  exhausted  energies  were  re- 
cruited. Time  they  regarded  as  a  treasure  too  rich  to  have 
any  of  it  wasted ;  and,  therefore,  all  its  shreds  and  patches 
were  carefully  used.  The  difficulties  which  they  encountered 
in  their  researches  served  only  to  awaken  new  eff"ort,  and  every 
new  conquest  gave  them  an  earnest  of  future  victories. 

7.  Feeble  health  may  have  retarded  their  progress ;  poverty's 


52  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

skeleton  liand  may  often  have  been  laid  with  a  crushing  weight 
upon  their  heads  ;  the  world  may  have  passed  them  by  in  cold 
neglect,  or  cast  upon  them  a  contemptuous  frown,  while  the 
discerning  and  liberal  few  may  not  have  found  them  out.  But 
the  unconquerable  spirit  within  them  stood  erect  in  spite  of  all 
these  obstructions. 

8.  The  delight  which  every  step  of  their  progress  afforded 
by  opening  new  wonders  before  them,  the  increased  power 
which  each  acquisition  gave  them  to  advance  to  other  victories, 
the  desire  of  leaving  their  names  permanently  inscribed  upon 
the  history  of  man,  and,  perhaps,  also,  those  higher  motives  to 
diligence  derived  from  a  sense  of  responsibility  to  Heaven,  all 
these  motives  were  continually  sounding  in  their  ears  the  on- 
ward cry.  And  onward  they  went,  triumphing  over  one  diffi- 
culty after  another,  until  the  world  at  last  confessed  their 
superiority,  sought  from  them  the  lessons  of  wisdom,  and 
lavished  lapon  them  its  honors. 

9.  But  their  former  companions  lingered  in  the  race.  They 
were  wanting  in  the  untiring  industry  and  indomitable  spirit  of 
perseverance  which  these  twelve  men  exhibited,  and,  therefore, 
they  have  not  stood  forth  as  the  master  spirits  of  their  times, 
nor  secured  the  homage  of  the  world  ;  and  the  wave  of  oblivion 
has  rolled  over  their  memories.  But  having  equal  talents  in 
the  commencement  of  their  course  with  their  more  energetic 
companions,  their  failure  and  the  world's  loss  must  be  imputed 
to  their  indolence  and  irresolution, 

10.  The  heart  sickens  when  it  sees  how  many  and  how 
powerful  are  the  causes  in  operation  to  pervert,  and  crush,  and 
waste  man's  intellect,  and  to  keep  those  powers  groveling  in 
the  dust  which  should  be  rising  and  soaring  among  the  stars. 
But  it  is  cheering  to  know  that  there  are  some,  and,  in  this 
country,  many  who  are  striving  to  rescue  the  noblest  thing  on 
earth,  the  human  soul,  from  its  thralldom  and  degradation. 

11.  They  stand,  indeed,  in  the  world's  Thermopylae,'  and 
struggle  against  a  fearful  odds.  But  they  shall  not  fall  there, 
like  the  band  of  Leonidas.''  Nay,  they  shall  see  the  deluge  of 
ignorance  and  sin  which  has  so  long  been  dashing  over  the 


FIFTHBOOK.  53 

fairest  portion  of  the  globe  beaten  back ;  and  the  dry  land  of 
knowledge  and  virtue  shall  appear,  and  the  flowers  of  hope 
and  happiness  shall  spring  up,  and  the  rich  fruits  of  science 
and  religion  shall  fill  the  garners  of  every  land. 

12.  A  beautiful  bow  of  promise  already  spans  the  horizon  ; 
for,  when  Christianity  prevails  in  all  lands  and  fully  controls 
all  hearts,  then  those  powerful  causes  of  intellectual  waste  and 
perversion  which  I  have  pointed  out,  shall  pass  away.  Intem- 
perance in  every  form,  and  cruel  war,  and  fierce  party  collisions, 
and  inordinate  selfishness,  and  factitious  and  unnatural  desires 
shall  all  be  sacrificed  upon  the  altar  of  benevolence ;  and  man 
shall  shake  oft'  his  indolence,  and  ample  means  and  motives  shall 
be  placed  before  the  whole  human  family  for  intellectual  and 
moral  culture. 

13.  Then  shall  such  progress  be  made  in  science,  literature, 
and  art  as  will  throw  into  the  shade  all  former  bright  spots  in 
human  history ;  then  will  the  world  learn,  for  the  first  time, 
bow  deep  has  been  her  degradation,  how  incalculably  valuable 
are  the  rights  of  which,  for  thousands  of  years,  she  has  been 
deprived,  and  how  truly  frightful  has  been  the  waste  of  mind 
since  the  beginning ! 

14.  O  how  cheering  to  the  lover  of  science  to  look  forward 
to  those  halcyon  days  which  Christianity  tells  us  shall  as- 
suredly come  !  Imagination  need  not  fear  that  her  most  vivid 
colors  can  outdo  the  original ;  for,  if  the  little  benevolence  and 
the  little  knowledge  which  have  been  in  the  world  hitherto,  have 
accomplished  so  much,  what  imagination  can  sketch  the  picture 
when  the  hearts  of  earth's  vast  population  shall  all  be  swayed  by 
benevolence,  and  their  minds  all  disciplined  and  expanded  by 
science  ? 


LESSON  nu 

GENIUS. 

G.   W.   BETHUNE. 

1.  Genius  must  be  cultivated  hy  exercise.  The  mind  is  like 
the  body.  Nothing  impairs  its  strength  so  much  as  idleness ; 
nothing  increases  it  so  much  as  Avell  directed  labor.    The  mus- 


54  SANDEES'     NEW     SERIES. 

cles  of  the  blacksmith's  arm  swell  out  with  vigor,  when  those 
of  the  man  of  ease  are  scarcely  visible,  though  originally  he 
may  have  been  possessed  of  much  greater  natural  strength ; 
and  we  are,  in  the  same  way,  often  surprised  to  see  the  zealous, 
earnest  student  leave  far  behind  him,  even  in  mental  power, 
the  idle  genius,  who  once  laughed  at  his  snail-like  progress. 

2.  To  be  successful,  we  should  never  be  idle.  Not  content 
with  mere  reading,  or  aimless  reveries  and  imaginations,  but 
employing  the  knowledge  we  have  gained,  and  applying  the 
rules  we  have  learned  to  some  useful  end.  Not  content  to  do 
any  thing  superficially  or  carelessly,  but  continually  striving  to 
avoid  defects,  and  aspiring  after  new  excellencies.  Not  content 
with  any  degree  of  attainment  or  success,  but  regarding  the 
past  as  only  preparation  for  the  future.  No  man  can  conceive 
what  he  is  capable  of  accomplishing  by  an  ardent  perseverance. 
The  Roman  Legionary,  born  under  the  most  luxurious  clime, 
learned  by  exercise  to  bear  without  fatigue  a  weight  of  armor 
Avhich  would  crush  the  strongest  modern  to  the  earth,  and  to 
contend  alike  successfully  with  the  barbarian  of  the  north 
amidst  his  icy  mountains,  and  the  agile  rover  of  the  burning 
desert. 

3.  The  intellectual  conqueror  need  never  weep,  like  him*  of 
Macedon,  that  there  remains  no  more  to  prove  his  prowess. 
The  higher  he  ascends,  the  more  arduous  appear  the  heights 
yet  to  be  attained.  To  the  generous  spirit,  rest  is  itself  a 
weariness.  The  young  man  who  covets  it,  or  even  procrasti- 
nates his  efforts  until  he  has  attained  more  strength,  will  make 
a  feeble  and  useless  old  age.  The  moment  we  repose,  we 
abandon  success.  The  mind,  it  is  true,  can  not  sustain  with- 
out occasional  relief  severe  intellectual  exertion ;  but  even  our 
amusements  may  be  made  profitable.  We  may  turn  from  the 
severer  volume  to  one  that  refines,  without  taxing  the  wearied 
faculties.  We  may  wander  forth  9,nd  enjoy  the  loveliness  of 
nature,  or  the  communion  of  friends,  without  laying  aside  the 
character  of  intellectual  being. 

4.  No  man  is  to  suppose  himself  destitute  of  Genius,  because 

*  Alexander  the  Great. 


FIFTHBOOK.  65 

its  effects  do  not  immediately  appear.  Genius,  in  its  higher 
forms,  belongs,  it  is  admitted,  to  few.  Some  men,  indeed,  can 
not  properly  be  said  to  possess  it  at  all.  Yet  there  is  not  one 
of  us  without  some  capacity  for  usefulness  ;  and  observation 
would  lead  us  to  believe,  that  even  the  gifts  of  Genius  have 
not  been  bestowed  by  such  a  sparing  hand  as  is  commonly 
believed.  The  fact,  that  in  certain  ages  many  men  of  Genius 
arise  to  high  distinction,  and  that  in  others  not  one  appears, 
seems  to  prove  that  certain  stimulants  to  exertion  have  been 
wanting  in  the  last,  which  were  felt  in  the  former. 

5.  Genius,  of  a  very  high  character,  needs  no  foreign  excite- 
ment. It  has  sufficient  impulsive  force  in  itself;  but,  when  the 
plant  is  more  feeble,  it  needs  fostering  and  care.  The  success 
of  one  great  mind  will  induce  others,  less, daring,  to  follow  in 
its  track.  The  assurance  of  sympathy,  which  is  thus  given,  is 
a  strong  encouragement  to  effort.  So,  rarely  has  a  new  star 
shone  out  in  the  firmament  of  mind,  but  many  smaller  lights 
have  twinkled  forth  to  form  a  constellation.  Precocity  of 
talent  is  not  necessarily  Genius.  It  is  sometimes  nothing  bet- 
ter than  a  vice  of  the  mental  being  in  overshooting  its  proper 
growth,  and  prematurely  exhausting  its  powers. 

6.  Not  a  few  instances  will  occur  to  you  of  men,  and  those, 
too,  the  most  distinguished,  who  have  passed  many  years  of 
their  lives  before  they  became  conscious  of  their  powers  or  the 
proper  method  of  directing  them.  "The  Lay  of  the  Last  Min- 
strel" did  not  appear  until  its  author  had  attained  the  meridian 
of  life,  and  Waverlcy  not  till  many  years  afterwards.  It  is  true, 
that  Scott  could  not  have  been  utterly  unconscious  of  his  gen- 
ius, even  in  early  manhood;  yet,  doubtless,  he  would  ha^•o 
smiled  incredulously  at  one  who  would  have  prognosticated  his 
future  triumphs ;  and  it  is  easy  to  see,  that  but  for  the  prepara- 
tion of  his  youth,  those  triumphs  would  never  have  been  his. 

1.  The  earlier  efforts  of  Byron  were  really  beneath  criticism; 
but  the  severe  chastisement  he  received,  only  stimulated  him 
to  greater  exertions,  and  he  lived  to  reach  the  height  of  fame. 
No  success  can  be  expected  without  exertion,  and  no  one 
knows  what  he  can  do,  until  he  has  resolutely  and  persever- 


66  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

ingly  applied  himself  to  the  straggle.  Even  if  we  have  but 
one  talent,  there  is  no  reason  why  that  should  he  buried  in  the 
earth.  The  praise  of  success  is  greater,  where  the  natural 
ability  is  small ;  and  it  is  immeasurably  better  to  be  moder- 
ately useful  than  ingloriously  idle. 


LESSON  IV* 

AN    EVENING    REVERIK 

"W,   C.   BETANT. 

1.  The  summer  day  is  closed, — the  sun  is  set : 

Well  have  they  done  their  office,  those  bright  hours, 
The  latest  of  whose  train  goes  softly  out 
In  the  red  wesj.     The  green  blade  of  the  ground 
Has  risen,  and  herds  have  cropped  it ;  the  young  twig 
Has  spread  its  plaited  tissues  to  the  sun  ; 
Flowers  of  the  garden  and  the  waste  have  blown 
And  withered  ;  seeds  have  fallen  upon  the  soil, 
From  bursting  cells,  and  in  their  graves  await 
Their  resurrection. 

2.  Insects  from  the  pools 
Have  filled  the  air  awhile  with  humming  wings, 
That  now  are  still  forever ;  painted  moths 
Have  wandered  the  blue  sky,  and  died  again ; 
The  mother-bird  hath  broken  for  her  brood 
Their  prison  shell,  or  shoved  them  from  the  nest, 
Plumed  for  their  earliest  flight.     In  bright  alcoves, 
In  woodland  cottages  with  barky  walls, 

In  noisome  cells  of  the  tumultuous  town. 
Mothers  have  clasped  with  joy  the  new-born  babe. 

3.  Graves  by  the  lonely  forest,  by  the  shore 
Of  rivers  and  of  ocean,  by  the  ways 

Of  the  thronged  city,  have  been  hollowed  out 
And  filled,  and  closed.     This  day  hath  parted  friend* 
That  ne'er  before  were  parted  ;  it  hath  knit 
New  friendships  ;  it  hath  seen  the  maiden  plight 


P  I  F  T  H     B  O  O  K  .  57 

Her  faith,  and  trust  lier  peace  to  liim  who  long 
Had  wooed  ;  and  it  hath  heard,  from  lips  which  late 
Were  eloquent  with  love,  the  first  harsh  word, 
That  told  the  wedded  one  her  peace  was  flown. 

4.  Farewell  to  the  sweet  sunshine !     One  glad  day 
Is  added  now  to  Childhood's  merry  days. 
And  one  calm  day  to  those  of  quiet  Age. 
Still  the  fleet  hours  run  on  ;  and,  as  I  lean 
Amid  the  thickening  darkness,  lamps  are  lit. 
By  those  who  watch  the  dead,  and  those  who  twine 
Flowers  for  the  hride.     The  mother  from  the  eyes 
Of  her  sick  infant  shades  the  painful  light, 
And  sadly  listens  to  his  quick-drawn  breath. 

6.  Oh,  thou  great  Movement  of  the  Universe, 
Or  change,  or  Flight  of  Time — for  ye  are  one  ! 
That  bearest,  silently,  this  visible  scene 
Into  night's  shadow  and  the  streaming  rays 
Of  starlight,  whither  art  thou  bearing  me  ? 
I  feel  the  mighty  current  sweep  me  on, 
Yet  know  not  whither,     Man  foretells  afar 
The  courses  of  the  stars  ;  the  very  horn- 
He  knows  when  they  shall  darken  or  grow  bright ; 
Yet  doth  the  eclipse  of  Sorrow  and  of  Death 
Come  unforewarned, 

6.  Who  next,  of  those  I  love, 

Shall  pass  from  life,  or,  sadder  yet,  shall  fall 
From  virtue  ?     Strife  with  foes,  or  bitterer  strife 
With  friends,  or  shame  and  general  scorn  of  men — 
Which  who  can  bear  ? — or  the  fierce  rack  of  pain. 
Lie  they  within  my  path  ?  or  shall  the  years 
Push  me,  with  soft  and  inoff'ensive  pace. 
Into  the  stilly  twilight  of  my  age  ? 
Or  do  the  portals  of  another  life 
Even  now,  while  I  am  glorying  in  my  strength, 
Impend  around  me  ? 

3* 


58  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES.     • 

Y.  Oil !  beyond  that  bourne, 

In  the  vast  cycle  of  being  which  begins 
At  that  broad  threshold,  with  what  fairer  forms 
Shall  the  great  law  of  change  and  progress  clothe 
Its  workings  ?     Gently — so  have  good  men  taught- 
Gently,  and  without  grief,  the  old  shall  glide 
Into  the  new  ;  the  eternal  flow  of  things. 
Like  a  bright  river  of  the  fields  of  heaven, 
Shall  journey  onward  in  perpetual  peace. 


LESSON  Y* 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Mag'er  ob,  an  island  of  the  Arctic  ocean, 
belonging  to  Norway,  in  latitude  71°  10'  north,  longitude  25"  50'  west 

2.  Fi'  ORD,  means  an  arm  of  the  sea. 

3.  Ul'tima  Thu'le.     See  Note,  page  tl. 

THE   MIDNIGHT  SUN. 

bayard  TAYLOR. 

1.  When  I  went  on  deck,  on  the  morning  after  our  depart- 
ure, we  were  in  the  narrow  strait  between  the  island  of  Mac- 
eroe' — the  northern  extremity  of  which  forms  the  North  Cape, 
and  the  mainland.  On  either  side,  the  shores  of  bare,  bleak 
rock,  spotted  with  patches  of  moss  and  stunted  grass,  rose  pre- 
cipitously from  the  water,  the  snow  filling  up  their  ravines 
from  the  summit  to  the  sea.  Not  a  tree,  nor  a  shrub,  nor  a 
sign  of  human  habitation  was  visible ;  there  was  no  fisher's 
sail  on  the  lonely  watei's,  and  only  the  cries  of  some  sea-gulls, 
wheeling  about  the  cliffs,  broke  the  silence. 

2.  The  sea  and  fiords'*  are  alive  with  fish,  which  are  not  only 
a  means  of  existence,  but  of  profit  to  them,  while  the  wonderful 
Gulf  Stream,  which  crosses  five  thousand  miles  of  the  Atlantic 
to  die  upon  this  Ultima  Thule'  in  a  last  struggle  with  the  Po- 
lar Sea,  casts  up  the  spoils  of  tropical  forests  to  feed  their 
fires.  Think  of  arctic  fishers  burning  upon  their  hearths  the 
palms  of  Hayti,  the  mahoo-any  of  Honduras,  and  the  precious 
woods  of  the  Amazon  and  the  Orinoco  ! 

3.  On  issuing  from  the  strait,  we  turned  southward  into  the 


FIFTHBOOK.  59 

great  fiord  which  stretches  nearly  a  hundred  miles  into  the 
heart  of  Lapland.  Its  shores  are  high  and  mountainous  hills, 
half  covered  with  snow,  and  barren  of  vegetation  except  patches 
of  grass  and  moss.  K  once  wooded,  the  trees  have  long  since 
disappeared,  and  now  nothing  can  be  more  bleak  and  desolate. 
Running  along  under  the  eastern  shore,  we  exchanged  the 
dreadful  monotony  through  which  we  had  been  sailing,  for 
more  rugged  and  picturesque  scenery. 

4.  Before  us  rose  a  wall  of  dark  cliff,  from  five  to  six  hun- 
dred feet  in  hight,  gaping  here  and  there  with  sharp  clefts  or 
gashes,  as  if  it  had  cracked  in  cooling,  after  the  primeval  fires. 
As  we  approached  the  end  of  the  promontory  which  divides 
the  fiords,  the  rocks  became  more  abrupt  and  violently  shat- 
tered. Huge  masses,  fallen  from  the  summit,  lined  the  base 
of  the  precipice,  which  was  hollowed  into  cavernous  arches, 
the  home  of  myriads  of  sea-gulls. 

5.  Far  to  the  north,  the  sun  lay  in  a  bed  of  saffron  light, 
over  the  clear  horizon  of  the  Arctic  ocean.  A  few  bars  of  daz- 
zling orange  cloud  floated  above  him  ;  and,  still  higher  in  the 
sky,  where  the  saffron  melted  through  delicate  rose-color  into 
blue,  hung  light  wreaths  of  vapor,  touched  with  pearly,  opaline 
flushes  of  pink  and  golden  gray.  The  sea  was  a  web  of  pale 
slate-color,  shot  through  and  through  with  threads  of  orange 
and  saffron,  from  the  dance  of  a  myriad  shifting  and  twinkling- 
ripples. 

6.  The  air  was  filled  and  permeated  with  the  soft,  mysteri- 
ous glow,  and  even  the  very  azure  of  the  southern  sky  seemed 
to  shine  through  a  net  of  golden  gauze.  The  headlands  of  this 
deeply-indented  coast  lay  around  us,  in  different  degrees  of 
distance,  but  all  with  foreheads  touched  with  supernatural 
glory.  Far  to  the  north-east  was  the  most  northern  point  of 
the  mainland  of  Europe,  gleaming  rosily  and  faint  in  the  full 
beams  of  the  sun,  and,  just  as  our  watches  denoted  midnight, 
the  North  Cape  appeared  to  the  westward — a  long  line  of  pur- 
ple bluff,  presenting  a  vertical  front  of  nine  hundred  feet  in 
hight  to  the  Polar  Sea. 

7.  Midway  between  these  two  magnificent  headlands  stood  the 


60  SANDERS'    NEW     SERIES. 

Midnight  Sun,  shining  on  us  with  subdued  fires,  and  with  the 
gorgeous  coloring  of  an  hour,  for  which  wc  have  no  name,  since 
it  is  neither  sunset  nor  sunrise,  but  the  blended  loveUness  of 
both — but  shining,  at  the  same  moment,  in  the  heat  and  splen- 
dor of  noonday,  on  the  Pacific  isles.  This  was  the  Midnight 
Sun  as  I  had  dreamed  it — as  I  had  hoped  to  see  it. 

8.  We  ran  out  under  the  northern  headland,  which  again 
charmed  us  with  a  glory  peculiarly  its  own.  Here  the  colors 
were  a  part  of  the  substance  of  tlie  rock,  and  the  sun  but  hight- 
ened  and  harmonized  their  tones.  The  huge  projecting  masses 
of  pale  yellow  had  a  mellow  gleam,  like  golden  chalk ;  behind 
them  were  clifFs,  violet  in  shadow  ;  broad  strata  of  soft  red, 
tipped  on  the  edges  with  vermilion;  thinner  layers,  which 
shot  up  vertically  to  the  hight  of  four  or  five  hundred  feet,  and 
striped  the  splendid  sea-wall  with  lines  of  bronze,  orange, 
brown,  and  dark  red,  while  great  rents  and  breaks  interrupted 
these  marvelous  frescoes  with  their  dashes  of  uncertain  gloom. 

9.  I  have  seen  many  wonderful  aspects  of  nature,  in  many 
lands,  but  rock-painting,  such  as  this,  I  never  beheld.  A  part 
of  its  efi'ects  may  have  been  owing  to  atmospheric  conditions 
which  must  be  rare,  even  in  the  North  ;  but,  without  such  em- 
beUishments,  I  think  the  sight  of  this  coast  will  nobly  repay 
any  one  for  continuing  his  voyage  beyond  Hammerfest,  We 
lingered  on  deck,  as  point  after  point  revealed  some  change  in 
the  dazzling  diorama,  uncertain  which  was  finest,  and  whether 
something  still  srrander  mio-ht  not  be  in  store.  But  the  north- 
east  wind  blew  keenly  across  the  Arctic  ocean,  and  we  were 
both  satisfied  and  fatigued  enough  to  go  to  bed.  It  was  the 
most  northern  point  of  our  voyage,  about  Yl"  20',  which  is 
further  north  than  I  ever  was  before,  or  ever  wish  to  be  again. 


-♦♦-♦-•>- 


LESSON  YIt 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  John  Mil' ton,  one  of  the  most  eminent  of 
English  poets,  was  born  in  London,  on  the  9th  of  December,  1G08.  Hia 
most  celebrated  production  is  entitled,  Paradise  Lost,  an  epic  poem  which 
ranks  him  with  Homer,  Virgil,  and  Tasso.  He  is,  hardly,  less  distin- 
guished as  a  prose  writer.     He  died  in  November,  1674. 


'  FIFTHBOOK.  61 

2.  Dan'  te,  a  most  celebrated  Italian  poet,  was  bom  in  Florence,  May 
27th,  1265.  The  Itahans  justly  regard  him  as  the  creator  of  their  poeti- 
cal  language,  and  the  father  of  their  poetry.  He  died  at  Ravenna,  Sep- 
tember 1-ith,  1321. 

ARCTIC   SCENERY. 

EB.  E.  K,  KANE. 

1.  To-day,  February  21,  the  crests  of  the  north-east  head- 
land were  gilded  by  true  sunshine,  and  all  who  were  able,  as- 
sembled on  deck  to  greet  it.  The  sun  rose  above  the  hori- 
zon, though  still  screened  from  our  eyes  by  intervening  hills. 
Although  the  powerful  refraction  of  polar  latitudes  heralds  his 
direct  appearance  by  brilliant  light,  this  is  as  far  removed 
from  the  glorious  tints  of  day,  as  it  is  from  the  mere  twilight. 

2.  Nevertheless,  for  the  past  ten  days,  we  have  been  Watch- 
ing the  gi'owing  warmth  of  our  landscape,  as  it  emerged  from 
buried  shadow,  through  all  the  stages  of  distinctness  of  an 
India  ink  washing,  step  by  step,  into  the  snarp,  bold  definition 
of  our  desolate  harbor  scene.  We  have  marked  eveiy  dash  of 
color  which  the  great  Painter,  in  His  benevolence,  vouchsafed 
to  us, — and  now  the  empurpled  blues,  clear,  unmistakable,  the 
spreading  lake,  the  flickering  yellow, — peering  at  all  these,  poor 
wretches!  every  thing  seemed  superlative  luster  and  unsur- 
passable gloiy.  We  had  so  groveled  in  darkness  that  we  over- 
saw the  light".     *     *     * 

3.  To-day,  February  25,  blessed  be  the  Great  Author  of 
Light !  I  have  once  more  looked  upon  the  sun.  I  was  stand- 
ing on  deck,  thinking  over  our  prospects,  when  a  familiar  berg, 
which  had  lono;  been  hid  in  shadow,  flashed  out  in  sun-birth. 
I  knew  this  berg  right  well.  It  stood  between  Charlotte  Wood 
Fiord  and  little  Willie's  monument.  One  year  and  one  day 
ago  I  traveled  toward  it  from  Fern  Rock,  to  catch  the  sun- 
shine. Then,  I  had  to  climb  the  hills  beyond,  to  get  the  lux- 
ury of  basking  in  its  brightness  ;  but  now,  though  the  sun  was 
but  a  sinofle  dearree  above  the  true  horizon,  it  was  so  much 
elevated  by  refraction  that  the  sheen  stretched  across  the  trough 
of  the  fiord  like  a  flaming  tongue.  I  could  not  or  would  not 
resist  the  influence.  It  was  a  Sunday  act  of  worship.  I  started 
off  at  an  even  run,  and  caught  him  as  he  rolled  slowly  along 


62  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

tbe  horizon,  and  before  he  sank.  I  was  again  the  first  of  my 
party  to  rejoice  and  meditate  in  sunshine.  It  is  the  third  sun 
I  have  seen  rise,  for  a  moment,  above  the  long  night  of  an  Arc- 
tic winter. 

4.  March  1. — A  grander  scene  than  our  bay  by  moonlight 
can  hardly  be  conceived.  It  is  more  dream-like  and  super- 
natural than  a  combination  of  earthly  features.  The  moon  is 
nearly  full,  and  the  dawning  sunlight,  mingling  with  hers,  in- 
vests every  thing  with  an  atmosphere  of  ashy  gray.  It  clothes 
the  gnarled  hills  that  make  the  horizon  of  our  bay,  shadows 
out  the  terraces  in  dull  definition,  grows  darker  and  colder  as 
it  sinks  into  the  fiords,  and  broods,  sad  and  dreary,  upon  the 
ridges  "and  measureless  plains  of  ice  that  make  up  the  rest  of 
our  field  of  view. 

5.  Rising  above  all  this,  and  shading  down  into  it  in  strange 
combination,  is  the  intense  moonlight,  glittering  on  every  crag 
and  spire,  tracing  the  outline  of  the  background  with  con- 
trasted brightness,  and  printing  its  fantastic  profiles  on  the 
snow-field.  It  is  a  landscape  such  as  Milton'  or  Dante^  might 
imagine — inorganic,  desolate,  mysterious.  I  have  come  down 
from  deck  with  the  feelings  of  a  man  who  has  looked  upon  a 
world  unfinished  by  the  hand  of  its  Creator. 


LESSON   VIU 

FIRST    REVOLUTION    OF    THE  HEAVENS  WITNESSED 

BY    MAN. 

PROF.   0.   M.   MrrCHEL. 

1.  Far  away  from  the  earth  on  which  we  dwell,  in  the  blue 
ocean  of  space,  thousands  of  bright  orbs,  in  clusterings  and  con-' 
figurations  of  exceeding  beauty,  invite  the  upward  gaze  of  man, 
and  tempt  him  to  the  examination  of  the  wonderful  sphere  by 
which  he  is  surrounded.  The  starry  heavens  do  not  display 
their  glittering  constellations  in  the  glare  of  day,  while  the  rush 
and  turmoil  of  business  incapacitate  man  for  the  enjoyment  of 
their  solemn  grandeur.  It  is  in  the  stillness  of  the  midnight 
hour,  when  all  nature  is  hushed  in  repose,  when  the  hum  of  the 


FIFTHBOOK.  63 

world's  ou-going  is  no  longer  heard,  that  the  planets  roll  and 
shine,  and  the  bright  stars,  trooping  through  the  deep  heavens, 
speak  to  the  willing  spirit  that  would  learn  their  mysterious 
being. 

2.  Often  have  I  swept  backward  in  imagination  six  thousand 
years,  and  stood  beside  our  Great  Ancestor,  as  he  gazed,  for 
the  first  time,  upon  the  going  down  of  the  sun.  What  strange 
sensations  must  have  swept  through  his  bewildered  mind,  as 
he  watched  the  last  departing  ray  of  the  sinking  orb,  uncon- 
scious whether  he  should  ever  behold  its  return  !  Wrapt  in  a 
maze  of  thought,  strange  and  startling,  his  eye  long  lingers 
about  the  point,  at  which  the  sun  had  slowly  faded  from  his 
view. 

3.  A  mysterious  darkness,  hitherto  unexperienced,  creeps 
over  the  face  of  nature.  The  beautiful  scenes  of  earth,  which, 
through  the  swift  hours  of  the  first  wonderful  day  of  his  ex- 
istence, had  so  charmed  his  senses,  are  slowly  fading,  one  by 
one,  from  his  dimmed  vision.  A  gloom  deeper  than  that  which 
covers  earth,  steals  across  the  mind  of  earth's  solitary  inhabi- 
tant. He  raises  his  inquiring  gaze  toward  heaven,  and  lo  !  a 
silver  crescent  of  light,  clear  and  beautiful,  hanging  in  the 
western  sky,  meets  his  astonished  eye.  The  young  moon 
charms  his  untutored  vision,  and  leads  him  upward  to  her 
bright  attendants,  which  are  now  stealing,  one  by  one,  from 
out  the  deep  blue  sky.  The  solitary  gazer  bows,  and  wonders, 
and  adores. 

4.  The  hours  glide  by, — the  silver  moon  is  gone, — the  stars 
are  rising, — slowly  ascending  the  hights  of  heaven, — and  sol- 
emnly sweeping  downward  in  the  stillness  of  the  night.  The 
first  grand  revolution  to  mortal  vision  is  nearly  completed.  A 
faint  streak  of  rosy  light  is  seen  in  the  east, — it  brightens, — the 
stars  fade, — the  planets  are  extinguished, — the  eye  is  fixed  in 
mute  astonishment  on  the  growing  splendor,  till  the  first  rays 
of  the  returning  sun  dart  their  radiance  on  the  young  earth  and 
its  solitary  inhabitant.  To  him  "  the  evening  and  the  morn- 
ing were  the  first  day." 

5.  The  curiosity  excited  on  this  first  solemn  night,  the  con- 


64  SAKDERS'     KEW     SERIES. 

sciousness  that  in  the  heavens  God  had  declared  his  glory, 
the  eager  desire  to  comprehend  the  mysteries  that  dwell  in 
these  bright  orbs,  have  clung  to  the  descendants  of  him  who 
first  watched  and  wondered,  through  the  long  lapse  of  six  thou- 
sand years.  In  this  boundless  field  of  investigation,  human 
genius  has  won  its  most  signal  victories.  Generation  after  gen- 
eration has  rolled  away,  age  after  age  has  swept  silently  by  ;  but 
each  has  swelled,  by  its  contribution,  the  stream  of  discovery. 

6.  One  barrier  after  another  has  given  way  to  the  force  of  in- 
tellect,— mysterious  movements  have  been  unraveled, — mighty 
laws  have  been  revealed, — ^ponderous  orbs  have  been  weighed, 
their  reciprocal  influences  computed,  their  complex  wanderings 
made  clear,  until  the  mind,  majestic  in  its  strength,  has  mount- 
ed, step  by  step,  up  the  rocky  hight  of  its  self-built  pyramid, 
from  whose  star-crowned  summit  it  looks  out  upon  the  grand- 
eur of  the  universe,  self-clothed  with  the  prescience  of  a  God. 

V.  With  resistless  energy  it  rolls  back  the  tide  of  time,  and 
lives  in  the  configuration  of  rolling  worlds  a  thousand  years 
ago,  or,  more  wonderful,  it  sweeps  away  the  dark  curtain  from 
the  future,  and  beholds  those  celestial  scenes  which  shall  greet 
the  vision  of  generations,  when  a  thousand  years  shall  have 
rolled  away,  breaking  their  noiseless  waves  on  the  dim  shores 
of  eternity. 

8.  To  trace  the  eff"orts  of  the  human  mind  in  this  long  and 
ardent  struggle, — to  reveal  its  hopes  and  fears,  its  long  years  of 
patient  watching,  its  moments  of  despair  and  hours  of  triumph, 
— to  develop  the  means  by  which  the  deep  foundations  of  the 
rock-built  pyramid  of  science  have  been  laid,  and  to  follow  it 
as  it  slowly  rears  its  stately  form  from  age  to  age,  until  its  ver- 
tex pierces  the  very  heavens, — these  are  the  objects,  proposed 
for  accomplishment,  and  these  are  the  topics  to  which  I  would 
invite  your  earnest  attention. 

9.  The  task  is  one  of  no  ordinary  difficulty.  It  is  no  feast 
of  fancy,  with  music  and  poetry,  with  eloquence  and  art,  to  en- 
chain the  mind.  Music  is  here  ;  but  it  is  the  deep  and  solemn 
harmony  of  the  spheres.  Poetry  is  here ;  but  it  must  be 
read  in  the  characters  of  light,  written  on  the  sable  garments 


FIFTHBOOK.  65 

of  inVlit.  Arcliitecture  is  here ;  but  it  is  the  colossal  structure 
of  sun  and  system,  of  cluster  and  universe.  Eloquence  is  here  ; 
but  "  there  is  neither  speech  nor  lang'uage.  Its  voice  is  not 
heard  ;"  yet  its  resistless  sweep  comes  over  us  in  the  mighty 
periods  of  revolving  worlds. 

10.  Shall  we  not  listen  to  this  music,  because  it  is  deep  and 
solemn  ?  Shall  we  not  read  this  poetry,  because  its  letters  are 
the  stars  of  heaven  ?  Shall  we  refuse  to  contemplate  this  ar- 
chitecture, because  "  its  architraves,  its  archways,  seem  ghostly 
from  infinitude  ?"  Shall  we  turn  away  from  this  surging  elo- 
quence, because  its  utterance  is  made  through  sweeping  worlds  ? 
No  !  the  mind  is  ever  inquisitive,  ever  ready  to  attempt  to 
scale  the  most  rugged  steeps.  Wake  up  its  enthusiasm, — fling 
the  light  of  hope  on  its  pathway,  and  no  matter  how  rough, 
and  steep,  and  rocky  it  may  prove,  onward,  is  the  word  which 
charms  its  willing  powers. 


I  >  »  • « 


LESSON  YHU 
HUMAN    INFLUENCE. 

1.  Our  facilities  for  exerting  an  influence  on  the  characters 
of  each  other,  are  so  many  and  great,  that  it  is  difiicult  to  con- 
ceive how  two  persons  can  meet  and  converse  together,  with- 
out exerting  a  mutual  influence.  Such  a  thing  seems  to  be 
impossible.  And  every  man  who  examines  critically  his  intel- 
lectuE^l  and  moral  state,  will  observe,  that  however  short  his  in- 
terview with  another  person  may  be,  it  has  had  an  effect  upon 
him  ;  and  that  every  thing  which  he  notices  in  the  manners, 
conversation,  and  actions  of  others,  and  in  the  circumstances 
of  their  condition  and  style  of  their  living,  affects,  in  some 
degree,  his  conduct,  and  changes,  in  some  degree,  his  character. 

2.  Hence  it  is,  that  human  conduct  is  seldom  stable  ;  that 
human  character  is  seldom  stationary.  The  patrician  acts 
upon  the  plebeian,  and  the  plebeian  upon  the  patrician ;  and 
the  different  members  of  the  same  class  act  upon  each  other. 
Every  meeting,  every  conversation,  every  instance  of  opposition 
or  co-operation  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure  or  business,  gives  riso 


66  SAIiTDERS'    NEW     SERIES. 

to  a  mutual  sympathy  of  feeling,  and  to  an  action  and  re- 
action, whicli  produce  changes,  of  some  kind,  in  the  state  and 
character  of  the  immortal  mind. 

3.  And  this  influence  is  usually  exerted  when  we  think  lit- 
tle about  it.  We  sit  down  by  the  fire-side  with  our  families ; 
we  meet  in  the  social  circle  with  our  friends  ;  we  call  upon  an 
acquaintance ;  we  transact  business  with  a  stranger ;  or  we  go 
up  to  the  house  of  God  ; — and  all  is  soon  forgotten.  But  we 
have,  probably,  left  impressions  on  some  minds,  Avhich  will 
never  be  erased.  Nor  can  any  care,  forethought,  labor,  or  in- 
genuity of  ours,  prevent  this.  The  nature  of  the  human  mind, 
and  the  economy  of  human  society,  must  first  be  changed. 

4.  And  this  influence  which  is  exerted  with  so  much  facility 
and  constancy,  has  often  great  power.  It  often  produces  very 
important  results.  A  single  brief  interview  may  give  such  a 
bias  and  direction  to  the  mind,  as  will  lead  to  a  radical  and 
permanent  change  in  the  character  and  conduct.  A  single  in- 
stance of  advice,  reproof,  caution,  or  encouragement,  may  decide 
the  question  of  a  man's  respectability,  usefulness,  and  happiness 
in  the  world. 

5.  But,  if  we  would  gain  a  correct  view  of  a  man's  influence 
during  his  earthly  existence,  we  must  not  confine  ourselves  to 
detached  portions  of  that  influence.  AV-e  must  survey  the  ag- 
gregate efi'ects  of  all  his  actions.  We  must  look,  not  at  the 
streams,  as  they  move  separately  through  a  thousand  valleys, 
but  at  those  streams,  when  united  in  one  broad  and  deep  chan- 
nel, and  rolling  along  a  might}^,  resistless  flood. 

6.  Now,  how  numberless  are  the  overt  acts  of  a  life  of 
iwenty,  thirty,  forty,  or  sixty  years !  How  they  fill  the  whole 
track  of  our  earthly  pilgrimage  !  How,  like  a  vast  army,  they 
stand  up  in  thick  array  !  And,  though  their  individual  strength 
be  small,  yet  how  immense  the  united  energy  of  the  whole 
great  phalanx !  Thus  much  may  be  said  concerning  the  fa- 
cility and  power  with  which  men  exert  a  direct  and  present 
influence  on  their  fellow-men. 

1.  Let  us  now  take  into  view  that  which  is  indirect  and 
future,  and  endeavor  to  enlarge  our  apprehensions,  so  as  to 


FIFTHBOOK.  67 

survey  the  extent  of  its  operation^  and  the  length  of  its  con- 
tinuance. The  influence  of  men  is  not  to  be  coniined  to  the  cir- 
cle of  their  acquaintance.  It  spreads  on  every  side  of  them, 
like  the  undulations  of  the  smitten  water,  and  will  reach  those 
whom  they  never  saw.  They  can  not  confine  it  to  their  state 
or  country.  It  will  spread  into  other  states,  and  other  countries. 
For  it  will  not  die  when  they  die ;  but  it  is  a  legacy  which  all 
bequeath  to  succeeding  generations  :  and  it  will  exist,  and  act, 
and  enlarge  its  sphere  of  operation,  for  ages  and  ages  to  come ! 
8.  We  feel  the  effects  of  what  was  done  by  Abraham,  Moses, 
David,  Alexander,  and  C^sar, — men  who  lived  and  acted  in 
a  distant  country,  and  twenty,  thirty,  forty  centuries  ago ! — 
And  generations  a  hundred  ages  hence,  and  in  a  hundred  dif- 
ferent lands,  may  feel  the  effects  of  our  actions !  Yes,  that  in- 
fluence which  is  now  comparatively  feeble  and  limited,  ma}', 
in  some  distant  age,  have  attained  to  a  greatness  and  territorial 
extent,  of  which  we  have  now  no  conception. 


LESSON   IX* 
ELEGANT   EXTRACTS. 
Dress. 


0.  W.  HOLMES. 


From  little  matters  let  us  pass  to  less, 

And  lightly  touch  the  mysteries  of  dress ; 

The  outward  forms  the  inner  man  reveal, 

We  guess  the  pulp  before  we  cut  the  peel. 

One  single  precept  might  the  whole  condense, — 

Be  sure  your  tailor  is  a  man  of  sense ; 

But  add  a  little  care  or  decent  pride, 

And  always  err  upon  the  sober  side. 

Wear  seemly  gloves, — not  black,  nor  yet  too  light ; 

And,  least  of  all,  the  pair  that  once  was  white. 

Have  a  good  hat ;  the  secret  of  your  looks 

Lies  with  the  beaver  in  Canadian  brooks. 

Virtue  may  flourish  in  an  old  cravat. 

But  man  and  nature  scorn  the  shocking  hat. 


68  SANDERS'    NEW    SERIES. 

Be  shy  of  breastpins ;  plain,  well-ironed,  white, 
"With  small  pearl  buttons, — two  of  them  in  sight, — 
Is  always  genuine,  while  your  gems  may  pass, 
Though  real  diamonds,  for  ignoble  glass. 


The  Hand  and  Its  Works. 

sarah  jajste  hale. 
The  hand, — Avhat  wondrous  Wisdom  planned 

This  instrument  so  near  divine ! 
How  impotent,  without  the  Hand, 

Proud  Reason's  light  would  shine ! 
Invention  might  her  power  apply, 

And  Genius  see  the  forms  of  heaven, — 
And  firm  Resolve  his  strength  might  try  ;-^ 
But  vain  the  Will,  the  Soul,  the  Eye, 
Unquarried  would  the  marble  lie, 
The  oak  and  cedar  flout  the  sky. 

Had  not  the  Hand  been  given ! 


&' 


Art's  glorious  things  that  give  the  Mind 

Dominion  over  time  and  space, — 
The  silken  car  that  rides  the  wind ; 

The  Steel  that  trackless  seas  can  trace ; 
The  Engine  breathing  fire  and  smoke 
That  Neptune's  potent  sway  hath  broke. 

And  sails  its  ships  'gainst  wind  and  tide; 
The  Telescope  that  sweeps  the  sky, 
And  brings  the  pilgrim  planet  nigh, 

Familiar  as  the  Sun's  pale  bride ; 
The  microscopic  Lens  which  finds 

On  every  leaf  a  peopled  land, — 
All  these  that  aid  the  mightiest  Minds, 

Were  wrought  and  fashioned  by  the  Hand  I 


FIFTHBOOK.  €6 

Words. 

Words  are  very  important  things.  They  are  but  breath, 
and  yet  what  deep  furrows  of  joy  or  sorrow  do  they  plow  in 
the  human  heart!  Plow  do  harsh  words  rend  the  feelino-s,  and 
till  the  eyes  with  tears ; — how  do  approving  and  kind  words 
thrill  like  music,  and  often  influence  a  whole  life!  Words  have 
hurried  men  to  vice, — words  have  bound  men  to  virtue.  As 
well  might  we  sport  with  fire-brands,  as  be  careless  and  inac- 
curate in  the  use  of  our  words.  Form,  in  early  life,  the  habit 
of  severe  accuracy  in  the  use  of  language, — words  planed  and 
chiseled  by  the  law  of  truth ;  see  that  they  express  what  you 
mean,  and  only  what  you  mean ;  the  slightest  voluntary  devia- 
tion is  a  lie,  and  every  lie  dishonors,  and  begrims,  and  bemires 
the  soul. 

A  Prayer. 

0  Thou  that  boldest  in  thy  spacious  hands 

The  destinies  of  men  !  whose  eye  surveys 
Their  various  actions !     Thou  whose  temple  stands 

Above  all  temples  !     Thou  whom  all  men  praise ! 

Of  good  the  Author  !     Thou  whose  wisdom  sways 
The  universe  !  all  bounteous !  grant  to  me 

Tranquillity,  and  health,  and  length  of  days ; 
Good  will  toward  all,  and  reverence  unto  Thee ; 
Allowance  for  man's  failings,  and  of  my  own 

The  knowledge,  and  the  power  to  conquer  all 
Those  evil  things  to  which  we  are  too  prone, 

Malice,  hate,  envy, — all  that  ill  we  call. 
To  me  a  blameless  life.  Great  Spirit,  grant, 
Nor  burdened  with  much  care,  nor  narrowed  by  much  want. 


Flowers. 

mart  howttt. 
God  mio;ht  have  bade  the  earth  brinsr  forth. 

Enough  for  great  and  small, 
The  oak-tree  and  the  cedar-tree, 
Without  a  flower  at  all. 


70  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

He  raight  have  made  enough,  enough 

For  every  want  of  ours, — 
For  kixury,  medicine,  and  toil. 

And  yet  have  made  no  flowers. 
Our  outward  life  requires  them  not ; 

Then,  wherefore  have  they  birth  ? 
To  minister  delight  to  man ; 

To  beautify  the  earth  ; — 
To  comfort  man, — to  whisper  hope, 

Whene'er  his  faith  is  dim  ; 
For  whoso  careth  for  the  flowers. 

Will,  much  more,  care  for  him  ! 


Ancestry. 


BEN  JONSON. 


Boast  not  these  titles  of  your  ancestors. 

Brave  youth  ;  they're  their  possessions,  none  of  yours ; 

When  your  own  virtues,  equaled  have  their  names, 

'Twill  be  but  fair  to  lean  upon  their  fames; 

For  they  are  strong  supporters  ;  but,  till  then, 

The  greatest  are  but  growing  gentlemen. 

It  is  a  wretched  thing  to  trust  to  reeds ; 

Which  all  men  do,  that  urge  not  their  own  deeds 

Up  to  their  ancestors ;  the  river's  side, 

By  which  you're  planted,  shows  your  fruit  shall  bide ; 

Hang  all  your  rooms  with  one  large  pedigree : 

'Tis  virtue  alone  is  true  nobility  ; 

Which  virtue  from  your  father,  ripe,  will  fall; 

Study  illustrious  him,  and  you  have  all. 


THE 

SCHOOL  READEH. 

FIFTH  BOOK, 
PART     THIRD, 

—    ■  -       ■■■■-.,♦ . 

LESSON    1. 

Explanatory  Notes  and  Definitions.  —  1.  De  mos'  the  nes,  the 
prince  of  orators,  rather  than  to  faU  into  the  hands  of  his  enemies,  de- 
stroyed himself  by  taking  poison. 

2.  Tul'  ly,  or  CiC'E  RO,  (Marcus  TuUius  Cicero),  the  great  Roman  ora- 
tor, was  murdered  by  Popilius,  whose  life  had  once  been  saved  by  hia 
eloquence.  His  head  and  hands  were  affixed  to  the  same  rostrum,  from 
which  he  had  poured  forth  eloquence,  surpassed  by  no  human  voice. 

3.  Hy  per  bo'  ee  an,  {hyper,  beyond  or  far ;  borean,  northern),  belong- 
ing to  a  region  very  far  north  ;  most  northern. 

4.  At  LAN'  Tis,  a  famous  island,  which,  according  to  the  ancients,  once 
stood  in  the  Atlantic  ocean,  but  which  was  subsequently  submerged.  Some 
modern  writers  identify  America  with  the  lost  Atlantis  of  the  ancients. 

5.  Sen'b  ca,  a  Roman  philosopher  and  orator,  who  was  tutor  to  Nero; 
but  the  sound  precepts  which  he  taught,  were  unheeded,  and,  after  that 
cruel  emperor  had  ascended  the  throne,  he  ordered  Seneca  to  destroy 
himselfj  which  he  did. 

6.  Thu'  le,  an  island  far  to  the  northwest  of  Europe,  which  was  called 
by  the  ancients,  ultima,  ihe  farthest,  on  account  of  its  being  regarded  as 
the  utmost  hmit  of  geographical  knowledge  in  that  quarter. 

THE   INTELLIGENCE   OF   THE   PEOPLE,   THE   SECURITY   OP 

THE   NATION. 

EDWARD    EVERETT. 

1.  The  most  powerful  motives  call  on  us,  as  scholars,  for  those 
efforts  which  our  common  country  demands  of  all  her  children. 
Most  of  us  are  of  that  class,  who  owe  whatever  of  knowledge 
has  shone  into  our  minds,  to  the  free  and  popular  institutions 
of  our  native  land.  There  are  few  of  us,  who  may  not  be  per- 
mitted to  boast  that  we  have  been  reared  in  an  honest  pov- 
erty or  a  frugal  competence,  and  owe  every  thing  to  those 
means  of  education,  which  are  equally  open  to  all. 


72  SANDEKS'    NEW     SEIIIES. 

2.  We  are  summoned  to  new  energy  and  zeal  by  the  high, 
nature  of  the  experiment  we  are  appointed  in  Providence  to 
make,  and  the  grandeur  of  the  theater,  on  which  it  is  to  be 
performed.  When  ^he  old  world  afforded  no  longer  any  hope, 
it  pleased  Heaven  to  open  this  last  refuge  to  humanity.  The 
attempt  has  begun,  and  is  going  on,  far  from  foreign  corrup- 
tion, on  the  broadest  scale,  and  under  the  most  benignant 
auspices ;  and  it  certainly  rests  with  us  to  solve  the  great 
problem  in  human  society — to  settle,  and  that  forever,  the 
momentous  question — whether  mankind  can  be  trusted  with  a 
purely  popular  system  of  government? 

3.  One  might  almost  think,  without  extravagance,  that  the 
departed  wise  and  good,  of  all  places  and  times,  are  looking 
down  from  their  happy  seats  to  witness  what  shall  now  be 
done  by  us ;  that  they  who  lavished  their  treasures  and  their 
blood  of  old,  who  labored  and  suffered,  who  spake  and  wrote, 
who  fought  and  pei'ished,  in  the  one  great  cause  of  freedom 
and  truth,  are  now  hanging,  from  their  orbs  on  high,  over  the 
last  solemn  experiment  of  humanity. 

4.  As  I  have  wandered  over  the  spots,  once  the  scenes  of 
their  labors,  and  mused  among  the  prostrate  columns  of  their 
senate-houses  and  forums,  I  have  seemed  almost  to  hear  a 
voice  from  the  tombs  of  departed  ages, — from  the  sepulchers 
of  the  nations  which  died  before  the  sight. 

5.  They  exhort  us,  they  adjure  us,  to  be  faithful  to  our 
trust.  They  implore  us,  by  the  long  trials  of  struggling  hu- 
manity— by  the  blessed  memory  of  the  departed — by  the  dear 
faith  which  has  been  plighted,  by  pure  hands,  to  the  holy 
cause  of  truth  and  man — by  the  awful  secrets  of  the  prison- 
houses,  where  the  sons  of  freedom  have  been  immured — by  the 
noble  heads  which  have  been  brought  to  the  block — by  the 
wrecks  of  time — by  the  eloquent  ruins  of  nations,  they  con- 
jure us  not  to  quench  the  light  which  is  rising  on  the  world. 
(f)  Greece  cries  to  us,  by  the  convulsed  lips  of  her  poisoned, 
dying  Demosthenes' ;  and  Rome  pleads  with  us  in  the'  mute 
persuasion  of  her  mangled  Tully.'* 

6.  When  we  engage  in  that  solemn  study,  the  history  of 


FIFTH     BOOK.  73 

dur  race, — when  we  survey  the  progress  of  man,  from  his  cra- 
dle in  the  east  to  these  last  limits  of  his  wandering, — when 
we  behold  him  forever  flying  westward  from  civil  and  religions 
thralldom,  bearing  his  household  gods  over  mountains  and 
seas,  seeking  rest  and  finding  none,  but  still  pursuing  the  fly- 
ing bow  of  promise  to  the  glittering  hills  which  it  spans  in 
Hesperian  climes,  we  can  not  but  exclaim, 

"  Westward  the  star  of  empire  takes  its  way ; 
The  four  first  acts  already  past ; 
The  fifth  shall  close  the  drama  vnth  the  day ; 
Time's  noblest  ofispring  is  the  last." 

v.  In  this  high  romance,  if  romance  it  be,  in  which  the 
great  minds  of  antiqaity  sketched  the  fortunes  of  the  ages  to 
come,  they  pictured  to  themselves  a  favored  region  beyond  the 
ocean,  a  land  of  equal  laws  and  happy  men.  The  primitive 
poets  beheld  it  in  the  islands  of  the  blest ;  the  Doric  bards 
fancied  it  in  the  Hyperborean'  regions  ;  the  sage  of  the  acad- 
emy placed  it  in  the  lost  Atlantis* ;  and  even  the  sterner  spirit 
of  Seneca*  could  discern  a  fairer  abode  of  humanity  in  distant 
reo-ions  then  unknown. 

8.  We  look  back  upon  these  uninspired  predictions,  and  al- 
most recoil  from  the  obligation  they  imply.  By  its  must  these 
fair  visions  be  realized ;  by  us  must  be  fulfilled  these  high  pro- 
mises which  burst  in  trying  hours  fi'om  the  longing  hearts  of 
the  champions  of  truth.  There  are  no  more  continents  or 
worlds  to  be  revealed.  Atlantis  hath  arisen  from  the  ocean. 
The  farthest  Thule^  is  reached ;  there  are  no  more  retreats  be- 
yond the  sea,  no  more  discoveries,  no  more  hopes. 

9.  Here,  then,  a  mighty  work  is  to  be  fulfilled,  or  never,  by 
the  race  of  mortals.  The  man  who  looks  with  tenderness  on 
the  suff"erings  of  good  men  in  other  times;  the  descendant  of 
the  Pilgrims,  who  cherishes  the  memory  of  his  fathers ;  the 
patriot  who  feels  an  honest  glow  at  the  majesty  of  the  system, 
of  which  he  is  a  member ;  the  scholar  who  beholds  with  rapture 
the  long-sealed  book  of  unprejudiced  truth,  opened  for  all  to 
read ; — these  are  they,  by  whom  these  auspices  are  to  be  ac- 
complished.    Yes ;  it  is  by  the  intellect  of  the  country,  that 

4 


74  SANDEES'    NEW     SERIES'. 

the  mighty  mass  is  to  be  inspired ;  that  its  parts  are  to  com- 
municate and  sympathize ;  its  bright  progress  to  be  adorned 
with  becoming  refinements ;  its  strong  sense  uttered ;  its  char- 
acter reflected ;  its  feelings  interpreted  to  its  own  children,  to 
other  regions,  and  to  after-ages. 


'«  ♦  »■ 


LESSOM  lU 

Direction. — In  reading  tlae  following  poetry,  regard  must  be  had  to 
the  proper  modulation  of  the  voice.  The  sentiment  so  clearly  denotes  the 
necessary  variation,  that  no  other  direction  is  required. 

THE   INQUIRY. 

CHARLES  MACKAY. 

1.  ('i)  Tell  me,  ye  winged  winds, 

That  round  my  pathway  roar, 
Do  ye  not  know  some  spot 

Where  mortals  weep  no  more  ? — 
Some  lone  and  pleasant  dell, 

Some  valley  in  the  west. 
Where,  free  from  toil  and  pain, 
The  weary  soul  may  rest  ? 
The  loud  wind  dwindled  to  a  whisper  low,  • 
And  sighed  for  pity  as  it  answered, — "  No." 

2.  Tell  me,  thou  mighty  deep. 

Whose  billows  round  me  play, 
Know'st  thou  some  favored  spot, 

Some  island  far  away. 
Where  weary  man  may  find 

The  bliss,  for  which  he  sighs, — 
Where  sorrow  never  lives. 
And  friendship  never  dies  ? 
The  loud  waves,  rolling  in  perpetual  flow, 
Stopped  for  a  while,  and  sighed  to  answer, — "  No." 

8.  And  thou,  serenest  moon, 

That,  with  such  lovely  face, 
Dost  look  upon  the  earth. 
Asleep  in  night's  embrace ; 


FIFTH     BOOK.  VO 

Tell  me,  in  all  thy  round, 

Hast  thou  not  seen  some  spot, 
Where  miserable  man 
Might  find  a  happier  lot  ? 
Behind  a  cloud  the  moon  withdrew  in  woe, 
And  a  voice,  sweet,  but  sad,  responded, — "  No." 

4.     Tell  me,  my  secret  soul, 
(<)  0  !  tell  me,  Hope  and  Faith, 
Is  there  no  resting-place 

From  sorrow,  sin,  and  death  ? — 
Is  there  no  happy  spot. 

Where  mortals  may  be  blessed, 
Where  grief  may  find  a  balm, 
And  weariness,  a  rest  ? 
Faith,  Hope,  and  Love,  best  boons  to  mortals  giveu 
Waved  their  bright  wings,  and  whispered, — "  Yes,  xn 
Heaven  1" 


LESSON  nu 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Le  on'  i  das,  a  celebrated  king  of  Sparta,  was 
offered  the  sovereignty  of  all  Greece  by  Xerxes,  the  Persian  king,  who 
had  invaded  Greece  with  an  army  of  Five  Millions,  if  he  would  not  oppose 
him.  This  proposal  he  indignantly  spumed,  and,  at  a  narrow  pass,  called 
Tliermopylce,  with  only  Three  Hundred  Spartans,  he  opposed  successfully 
the  army  of  Xerxes  for  Three  successive  days.  At  last  a  traitorous  Gre- 
cian made  known  to  the  Persians  a  secret  way,  by  which  they  gained 
the  rear  of  Leonidas,  who,  with  his  brave  band,  thus  surrounded,  fell  after 
a  severe  contest,  only  one  escaping.  In  this  battle  Xerxes  lost  Twenty 
Thousand  men. 

2.  John  How'  ard  was  a  philanthropist,  who  became  celebrated  for  his 
sympathy  in  behalf  of  unfortunate  prisoners.  He  traveled  through  the 
principal  countries  of  Europe,  visiting  the  jails,  and  administering  to 
those  suffering  in  them.  Thus,  "  he  trod  an  open,  but  unfi-equented,  path 
to  immortality." 

3.  Glad'  i  a  tors  were  men  disciplined  to  fight  with  swords,  in  the 
arena  at  Rome,  for  the  entertainment  of  the  people. 

4.  The  Ge'  ni  i  were  fabled  to  be  intermediate  beings  between  men 
and  angels.     Some  were  considered  good,  some  evil. 


76  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

MORAL    SUBLIMITY. 

WATLANI). 

1.  Philosophers  liave  speculated  mucli  concerning  a  pro- 
cess of  sensation,  Avhicli  lias  commonly  been  denominated  the 
emotion  of  sublimity.  But,  although  they  alone  have  written 
about  this  emotion,  they  are  far  from  being  the  only  men  who 
have  felt  it.  The  untutored  peasant,  when  he  has  seen  the 
autumnal  tempest  collecting  between  the  hills,  and,  as  it  ad- 
vanced, enveloping  in  misty  obscurity  village  and  hamlet,  for- 
est and  meadow,  has  tasted  the  sublime  in  all  its  reality  ;  and, 
while  the  thunder  has  rolled,  and  the  lightning  flashed  around 
him,  has  exulted  in  the  view  of  nature,  moving  forth  in  her 
majesty. 

2.  "  There's  grandeur  in  the  thunder's  roar, 

Loud  pealing  from  on  high ; 
In  the  vivid  hghtning's  flash, 

When  storms  sweep  through  the  sky; 
There's  grandeur  in  the  sweUing  waves, 

The  mountains  of  the  sea, 
That  crush  the  pride  of  man, 

When  winds  blow  wild  and  free." 

3.  The  untaught  sailor-boy,  listlessly  hearkening  to  the  idle 
ripple  of  the  moon-lit  wave,  when  on  a  sudden  he  has  thought 
upon  the  unfathomable  abyss  beneath  him,  the  wide  waste  of 
waters  around  him,  and  the  infinite  expanse  above  him,  has 
enjoyed,  to  the  full,  the  emotion  of  sublimity,  while  his  inmost 
soul  has  trembled  at  the  vastness  of  its  own  conceptions.  But 
why  need  I  multiply  illustrations  from  nature  ?  Who  does 
not  recollect  the  emotion  he  has  felt  while  surveying  aughi.  in 
the  material  world,  of  terror  or  of  vastness  ? 

4.  And  this  sensation  is  not  produced  by  grandeur  in  m;i- 
terial  objects  alone.  It  is  also  excited  on  most  of  those  occj^ 
sions,  in  which  we  see  man,  tasking  to  the  uttermost  the 
energies  of  his  intellectual  or  moral  nature.  Through  the  long 
lapse  of  centuries,  who,  without  emotion,  has  read  of  Leonidas' 
and  his  three  hundred,  throwing  themselves  as  a  barrier  before 
the  myriads  of  Xerxbs,'  and  contending  unto  death  for  the 
liberties  of  Greece  ? 


FIFTH     BOOK.  77 

5.  But  we  need  not  turn  to  classic  story,  to  find  all  tliat  is 
great  iu  liuinau  action  ;  we  find  it  in  our  own  times,  and  in  the 
history  of  our  own  country.  Who  is  there  of  us,  that,  even  in 
the  nursery,  has  not  felt  his  spirit  stir  within  him,  when,  with 
childlike  wonder,  he  has  listened  to  the  story  of  Washington  ? 
And,  although  the  terms  of  the  narrative  were  scarcely  intelli- 
gible, yet  the  young  soul  kindled  at  the  thought  of  one  man's 
working  out  the  delivery  of  a  nation.  And,  as  our  understand- 
ing, strengthened  by  age,  was  at  last  able  to  grasp  the  detail 
of  this  transaction,  we  saw  that  our  infantile  conceptions  had 
fallen  far  short  of  its  grandeur. 

6.  Oh  !  if  an  American  citizen  ever  exults  in  the  contem- 
plation of  all  that  is  sublime  in  human  enterprise,  it  is  when, 
brinrrinii  to  mind  the  men  who  first  conceived  the  idea  of  this 
nation's  independence,  he  beholds  them  estimating  the  power 
of  her  oppressor,  the  resources  of  her  citizens,  deciding,  in 
their  collected  might,  that  this  nation  should  be  free,  and, 
througii  the  long  years  of  trial  that  ensued,  never  blenching 
from  their  purpose,  but  freely  redeeming  the  pledge  they  had 
given,  to  consecrate  to  it  "  their  Lives,  their  Fortunes,  and 

THEIR  SACRED  HoNOR." 

1.     "  Patriots  have  toiled,  and,  in  their  country's  cause, 
Bled  nobly  ;  and  their  deeds,  as  they  deserve, 
Receive  proud  recompense.     We  give  in  charge 
Their  names  to  the  sweet  lyre.     The  historic  Muse, 
Proud  of  her  treasure,  marches  with  it  down 
To  latest  times ;  and  Sculpture,  in  her  turn, 
Gives  bond  in  stone  and  ever-during  brass, 
To  guard  them  and  immortalize  her  trust." 

8.  It  is  not  m  the  field  of  patriotism  alone  that  deeds  have 
been  achieved,  to  which  history  has  aAvarded  the  palm  of  moral 
sublimity.  There  have  lived  men,  in  whom  the  name  of  pa- 
triot has  been  merged  in  that  of  philanthropist,  who,  look- 
ing with  an  eye  of  compassion  over  the  face  of  the  earth,  have 
felt  for  the  miseries  of  our  race,  and  have  put  forth  their  calm 
mio-ht  to  wipe  off"  one  blot  from  the  marred  and  stained  es- 
cutcheon of  human  nature,— to  strike  oft'  one  form  of  suff"ering 
from  the  catalogue  of  human  woe.    Such  a  man  was  Howard.' 


"O' 


d 


78  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Surveying  our  world  like  a  spirit  of  the  blessed,  lie  beheld  the 
misery  of  the  captive, — he  heard  the  groaning  of  the  prisoner. 
His  determination  was  fixed.  He  resolved,  single  handed  and 
alone,  to  gauge  and  to  measure  one  form  of  unpitied,  unheeded 
wretchedness ;  and,  bringing  it  out  to  the  sunshine  of  public 
observation,  to  work  its  utter  extermination. 

9.  And  he  well  knew  what  this  undertaking  would  cost  him. 
He  knew  what  he  had  to  hazard  from  the  infections  of  dun- 
geons, to  endure  from  the  fatigues  of  inhospitable  travel.  Pie 
knew  that  he  was  devoting  himself  to  the  altar  of  philan- 
thropy, and  he  willingly  devoted  himself.  He  had  marked 
out  his  destiny,  and  he  hasted  forward  to  its  accomplishment 
with  an  intensity,  "  which  the  nature  of  the  human  mind  for- 
bade to  be  more,  and  the  character  of  the  individual  forbade 
to  be  less."  And  hence,  the  name  of  Howard  will  be  associ- 
ated with  all  that  is  sublime  in  mercy,  until  the  final  consum- 
mation of  all  things. 


10.  Only  moral  greatness  is  truly  sublime.  The  gladiator' 
may  discipline  his  sinews,  and  almost  compete  in  strength  even 
with  his  maddened  adversary.  And  there  are  modern  as  well 
as  ancient  names,  which  awaken  pity,  if  not  contempt,  for  their 
owners,  on  account  of  the  fearful  perversion  of  their  splendid 
talents.  But  when  we  read  or  hear  of  Howard,  the  illustrious 
philanthropist,  the  soul,  debased  as  it  may  be,  bends  with  in- 
stinctive homage,  and  feels  as  if  a  ray  from  his  beatified  spirit 
illumed  and  purified  its  purposes. 

11.  While  Napoleon,  like  the  fabled  genii,*  traversed  the 
affrighted  earth,  marked  his  footsteps  with  human  blood,  our 
own  Washington  rose  like  another  luminary  upon  the  daik 
and  troubled  scene  of  American  politics,  and,  with  no  marvel- 
ous intellectual  ability,  but  in  the  tranquil  might  of  moral 
majesty,  he  pursued  the  narrow  path  of  duty,  and  blenched 
neither  to  the  power  of  enemies,  nor  to  the  influence  of  aff"ec- 
tion.  He  had  no  noon-day  brightness, — no  declining  splendor. 
His  whole  course  was  light  and  glory ;  and  he  left  a  heavenly 
and  perennial  brilliancy  on  the  national  horizon. 


riFTHBOOK.  79 

LESSON  IV* 

IMAGINARY  AND   REAL   ENDOWMENTS. 

1.  The  fire  of  a  glowing  imagination  may  make  folly  look ' 
pleasing,  and  lend  a  beauty  to  objects  which  have  none  in  them  ; 
just  as  the  sun-beams  may  paint  a  cloud,  and  diversify  it  with 
beautiful  stains  of  light,  however  dark,  unsubstantial,  and 
empty  in  itself.  But  nothing  can  shine  with  undiminished  lus- 
ter, but  religion  and  knowledge,  which  are  essentially  and 
intrinsically  bright.  Among  the  wise  and  good,  useless  good- 
nature is  the  object  of  pity ;  ill-nature,  of  hatred  ;  but  nature, 
beautified  and  improved  by  an  assemblage  of  moral  and  intel- 
lectual endowments,  is  the  only  object  of  a  solid  and  lasting 
fisteem. 

2.  Relentless  Time  that  steals  with  silent  tread, 
Shall  tear  away  the  trophies  of  the  dead ; 
Fame,  on  the  pyramid's  aspiring  top. 

With  sighs  shall  her  recording  trumpet  drop , 

The  feeble  characters  of  Glory's  hand. 

Shall  perish,  like  the  tracks  upon  the  sand ; 

But  not  with  these  expire  the  sacred  flame 

Of  Virtue,  or  the  good  man's  awful  name. — Bowles. 


LESSON  Y* 

Definitioks. — 1.  Ef  ftjs'  ED,  (e/or  ex,  out;  fused,  poured.),  poured  out; 
shed  forth. 

2.  Per  en'  ni  al,  (per,  through,  ennial,  annual.),  continuing  through  the 
year;  perpetuaL 

3.  0'  Ri  ENT,  the  east ;  the  rising,  as  of  the  sun  or  moon. 

4.  Em  pyr'  e  al,  (em  or  en,  in ;  pyreal,  belonging  to  fire.),  formed  of 
pure  fire  or  light ;  pertaining  to  the  purest  and  lightest  region  of  heaven. 

ASPIRATIONS    AFTER    THE    INFINITE. 

AKENSIDE. 

1.  Say,  why  was  man- so  eminently  raised 
Amid  the  vast  creation  ?  why  ordained 
Through  life  and  death  to  dart  his  piercing  eye, 
"With  thoughts  beyond  the  limit  of  his  fame, 


80  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

But  that  the  Omnipotent  might  send  him  forth, 
In  sight  of  mortal  and  immortal  powers, 
As  on  a  boundless  theater,  to  run 
The  great  career  of  justice, — to  exalt 
His  generous  aim  to  all  diviner  deeds, — 
To  chase  each  partial  purpose  from  his  breast; 
And  through  the  mists  of  passion  and  of  sense. 
And  through  the  tossing  tide  of  chance  and  pain, 
To  hold  his  com-se  unfaltering,  while  the  voice 
Of  Truth  and  Virtue,  up  the  steep  ascent 
Of  Nature,  calls  him  to  his  high  reward, — 
The  applauding  smile  of  Heaven  ? 

2.  Else,  wherefore  burns 
In  mortal  bosoms  this  unquenchcd  hope 

That  breathes,  from  day  to  day,  sublimer  things, 
And  mocks  possession  ?     Wherefore  darts  the  min(5 
With  such  resistless  ardor  to  embrace 
Majestic  forms ;  impatient  to  be  free. 
Spurning  the  gross  control  of  willful  might ; 
Proud  of  the  strong  contention  of  her  toils ; 
Proud  to  be  daring  ? 

3.  Who  but  rather  turns 
To  Heaven's  broad  fire  his  unconstrained  view, 
Than  to  the  glimmering  of  a  waxen  flame  1 
Who  that,  from  Alpine  bights,  his  laboring  eye 
Shoots  round  the  wide  horizon,  to  survey 

Nilus  or  Ganges  rolling  his  bright  wave  [shade, 

Tlirough  mountains,  plains,   through  empires  black  with 
And  continents  of  sand,  will  turn  his  gaze 
To  mark  the  windings  of  a  scanty  rill 
That  murmurs  at  his  feet  ? 

4.  The  high-born  soul 
Disdains  to  rest  her  heaven-aspiring  wing 
Beneath  her  native  quarry.     Tired  of  earth, 
And  this  diurnal  scene,  she  springs  aloft 


FIFTHBOOE.  81 

Through  fields  of  air  ;  pursues  the  flying  storm  ; 
Rides  on  the  volleyed  lightning  through  the  heavens ; 
Or,  yoked  with  whirlwinds  and  the  northern  blast, 
Sweeps  the  long  track  of  day.     Then  high  she  soars 
The  blue  profound,  and,  hovering  round  the  sun, 
Beholds  him  pouring  the  redundant  stream  . 
Of  light ;  beholds  his  unrelenting  sway 
Bend  the  reluctant  planets  to  absolve 
The  fated  rounds  of  Time. 

5.  Thence  far  effused,' 
.    She  darts  her  swiftness  up  the  long  career 

Of  devious  comets ;  through  its  burning  signs, 
Exulting,  measures  the  perenniaP  wheel 
Of  Nature,  and  looks  back  on  all  the  stars, 
Whose  blended  light,  as  with  a  milky  zone, 
Invests  the  orient.^     Now,  amazed  she  views 
The  empyreal*  waste,  where  happy  spirits  hold, 
Beyond  this  concave  heaven,  their  calm  abode ; 
And  fields  of  radiance,  whose  unfading  light 
Has  traveled  the  profound  six  thousand  years, 
Nor  yet  arrives  in  sight  of  mortal  things. 

6.  Even  on  the  barriers  of  the  world,  untired 
She  meditates  the  eternal  depth  below  ; 
Till,  half  recoiling,  down  the  headlong  steep, 

She  plunges, — soon  o'erwhelmed  and  sw^allowed  up 

In  that  immense  of  being.     There  her  hopes 

Rest  at  the  fated  goal.     For,  from  the  birth 

Of  mortal  man,  the  Sovereign  Maker  said, 

That  not  in  humble  nor  in  brief  delight, 

Not  in  the  fading  echoes  of  Renown, 

Power's  purple  robe,  nor  Pleasure's  flowery  lap. 

The  soul  should  find  enjoyment ;  but  from  these, 

Turning  disdainful  to  an  equal  good. 

Through  all  the  ascent  of  things,  enlarge  her  view, 

Till  every  bound,  at  length,  should  disappear, 

And  infinite  perfection  close  the  scene. 


82  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON  YU 

ExPLANATOET  NoTES. — 1.  Per'  I  CLES  was  an  illustrious  statesman,  or- 
ator and  warrior  of  Athens,  who  died  429  years  before  Christ.  For  forty 
years  he  was  at  the  head  of  public  affairs  at  Athens,  and  the  flourishing 
state  of  the  empire  during  his  administration,  caused  the  Athenians  pub- 
licly to  mourn  his  loss,  and  to  venerate  his  memory. 

2.  A  crop'  0  LIS  was  the  citadel  of  Athens.  It  was  built  on  a  rock, 
and  was  accessible  only  on  one  side.  The  temple  of  Muierva,  the  god- 
dess of  wisdom,  war,  and  the  arts,  was  at  its  base, 

3.  Phid'  I  AS  was  a  celebrated  sculptor  of  Athens.  At  the  request  of 
Pericles,  he  made  a  statue  of  Minerva.  But  having  been  accused  of 
carving  his  own  image  and  that  of  Pericles  on  the  shield  of  the  statue,  he 
was  banished.  To  revenge  this  injustice,  he  executed  the  statue  of  Jupi- 
ter Olympus,  which  far  surpassed  that  of  Minerva,  and  which  has  been  es- 
teemed one  of  the  wonders  of  the  world.     He  died  432  years  before  Christ. 

4.  Mus'  SUL  MAN  is  another  name  for  Mohammedan,  a  follower  of  Mo- 
hammed, the  false  prophet,  who  appeared  at  Mecca  in  Arabia  about  600 
years  after  Christ. 

5.  Samuel  Johnson  and  Edmund  Burkb  were  celebrated  English  writ- 
ers of  the  Eighteenth  century. 

6.  "Wil'  ber  force  was  a  distinguished  philanthropist,  bom  1759,  whose 
exertions  to  procure  the  abolition  of  the  slave  trade,  gave  him  a  high  rank 
among  the  benefactors  of  mankind. 

THE  VANITY  OP  EARTHLY  GLORY. 

WATLAND. 

"  See  the  wide  waste  of  all-devouring  years ! 
How  Rome  her  own  sad  sepulcher  appears  I 
With  nodding  arches,  broken  temples  spread ! 
The  very  tombs  now  vanished,  like  then*  dead!" 

1.  Thk  crumbling  tomb-stone,  the  gorgeous  mausoleum, 
yhe  sculptured  marble,  and  the  venerable  cathedral,  all  bear 
ft'itness  to  the  instinctive  desire  within  us  to  be  remembered 
by  coming  generations.  But  how  short-lived  is  the  immortal- 
ity which  the  works  of  our  hands  can  confer !  The  noblest 
monuments  of  art  that  the  world  has  ever  seen,  are  covered 
with  the  soil  of  twenty  centuries.  The  works  of  the  age  of 
Pericles',  lie  at  the  foot  of  the  Acropolis^  in  indiscriminate  ruin. 
The  plowshare  turns  up  the  marble  which  the  hand  of  Phidias' 
had  chiseled  into  beauty,  and  the  Mussulman*  has  folded  his 
flock  beneath  the  falling  columns  of  the  temple  of  Minerva'. 


FIFTHBOOK.  33 

2.  But  even  the  works  of  our  hands  too  frequently  survive 
the  memory  of  those  who  have  created  them.  And  were  it 
otherwise,  could  we  thus  carry  down  to  distant  ages  the  re- 
collection of  our  own  existence,  it  were  surely  childish  to 
waste  the  energies  of  an  immortal  spirit,  in  the  effort  to  make 
it  known  to  other  times,  that  a  being  whose  name  was  written 
with  certain  letters  of  the  alphabet,  once  lived,  and  flourished, 
' — and  died. 

3.  Neither  sculptured  marble,  nor  stately  column,  can  re- 
veal to  other  ages  the  lineaments  of  the  spirit;  and  these 
alone  can  embalm  our  memory  in  the  hearts  of  a  grateful  pos- 
terity. As  the  stranger  stands  beneath  the  dome  of  St. 
Paul's,  or  treads,  with  religious  awe,  the  silent  aisles  of  West- 
minster Abbey,  the  sentiment  which  is  breathed  from  every 
object  around  him,  is,  the  utter  emptiness  of  sublunary  glory. 

4.  The  fine  arts,  obedient  to  private  affection  or  public 
gratitude,  have  here  embodied,  in  every  form,  the  finest  con- 
ceptions, of  which  their  age  was  capable.  Each  one  of  these 
monuments  has  been  watered  by  the  tears  of  the  widow,  the 
orphan,  or  the  patriot.  But  generations  have  passed  away, 
and  mourners  and  mourned  have  sunk  together  into  forgetful- 
ness.  The  aged  crone,  or  the  smooth-tongued  beadle,  as  now 
he  hurries  you  through  aisles  and  chapel,  utters,  with  meas- 
ured cadence  and  unmeaning  tone,  for  the  thousandth  time, 
the  name  and  lineage  of  the  once  honored  dead  ;  and  then 
gladly  dismisses  you  to  repeat  again  his  well-conned  lesson  to 
another  group  of  idle  passers-by. 

5.  Such,  in  its  most  august  form,  is  all  the  immortality  that 
matter  can  confer.  It  is  by  what  we  ourselves  have  done,  and 
not  by  what  others  have  done  for  us,  that  we  shall  be  remem- 
bered by  after  ages.  It  is  by  thought  that  has  aroused  the 
intellect  from  its  slumbers,  which  has  "  given  luster  to  virtue 
and  dignity  to  truth,"  or  by  those  examples  which  have  in- 
flamed the  soul  with  the  love  of  goodness,  and  not  by  means 
of  sculptured  marble,  that  we  hold  communion  with  Shak- 
speare  and  Milton,  with  Johnson  and  Burke*,  with  Howard  and 
"Wilberforce*. 


84:  SANDERS'    NEW    SERIES. 

LESSON  YIU 

ExPLAKATOET  NoTE. — 1.  Po  PO  cat/a  petl  is  a  volcano  in  Mexico, 
•which  is  constautly.in  action,  throwing  out  smoke,  ashes,  and  fire. 

THE   MEMORY   OF   THE   JUST. 

PRESCOTT. 

1.  The  remembrance  of  the  just  shall  not  pass  away  ;  the 
good  thou  hast  done,  shall  ever  be  held  in  honor.  The  goods 
of  this  life, — its  glories  and  its  riches, — are  but  lent  to  us ;  its 
substance  is  but  an  illusory  shadow,  and  the  things  of  to-day 
shall  change  on  the  coming  of  the  morrow.  All  things  on 
earth  have  their  term,  and,  in  the  most  joyous  career  of  their 
vanity  and  splendor,  their  strength  fails,  and  they  sink  into 
the  dust.  All  the  round  world  is  but  a  scpulcher,  and  there  is 
nothing  which  lives  on  its  surface,  that  shall  not  be  hidden  and 
entombed  beneath  it. 

2.  Rivers,  torrents,  and  streams,  move  onward  to  their  des- 
tination. Not  one  flows  back  to  its  pleasant  source.  They 
rush  onward,  hastening  to  bury  themselves  in  the  deep  bosom 
of  the  ocean.  The  cemetery  is  full  of  the  loathsome  dust  of 
bodies  once  quickened  by  living  souls,  who  occupied  thrones, 
presided  over  assemblies,  marshaled  armies,  subdued  iprovinccs, 
arrogated  to  themselves  worship,  were  puffed  up  with  vain- 
glorious pomp,  and  power,  and  empire. 

3.  But  these  glories  have  all  passed  away,  like  the  fearful 
smoke  that  issues  from  the  throat  of  PopocatapetP,  with  no 
other  memorial  of  their  existence,  than  the  record  on  the  page 
of  the  chronicler.  The  great,  tbe  wise,  the  valiant,  the  beau- 
tiful,— alas !  where  are  they  now  ?  They  are  all  mingled  with 
the  clod ;  and  that  which  has  befallen  them,  shall  happen  to 
us,  and  to  those  that  come  after  us.  Yet  let  us  take  courage, 
— let  us  aspire  to  that  Heaven,  where  all  is  eternal,  and  cor- 
ruption can  not  come. 

4.  "  See  Truth,  Love,  and  Mercy,  in  triumph  descending. 

And  Nature  all  glowing  in  Eden's  first  bloonal 
On  the  cold  cheek  of  Death,  smiles  and  roses  are  blending. 
And  Beauty  immortal  awakes  from  the  tomb !" 


FIFTHBOOK.  85 

LESSON    Yin> 

THE   PEN  AJSTD   THE  PRESS. 

J.   C.  PRINCE. 

1.  YouNa  Genius  walked  out  by  the  mountains  and  streams, 
Entranced  by  tlie  power  of  Lis  own  pleasant  dreams, 

Till  the  silent,  the  wayward,  the  wandering  thing 
Found  a  plume  that  had  fallen  from  a  passing  bird's  wing ; 
Exulting  and  proud,  like  a  boy  at  his  play, 
He  bore  the  new  prize  to  his  dwelling  away  ; 
He  sazed  for  a  while  on  its  beauties,  and  then 
He  cut  it,  and  shaped  it,  and  called  it — a  Pen. 

2.  But  its  magical  use  he  discovered  not  yet, 

Till  he  dipped  its  bright  lips  in  a  fountain  of  jet; 

And  O  !  what  a  glorious  thing  it  became. 

For  it  spoke  to  the  world  in  a  language  of  flame ; 

While  its  master  wrote  on,  like  a  being  inspired, 

Till  the  hearts  of  the  millions  were  melted  or  fired ; 

It  came  as  a  boon  and  a  blessing  to  men. 

The  peaceful,  the  pure,  the  victorious  Pen. 

3.  Young  Genius  went  forth  on  his  rambles  once  more, 
The  vast,  sunless  caverns  of  earth  to  explore  ; 

He  searched  the  rude  rock,  and  with  rapture  he  found 
A  substance  unknown,  which  he  brought  from  the  ground ; 
He  fused  it  with  fire,  and  rejoiced  in  the  change. 
As  he  molded  the  ore  into  characters  strange,  [cess ; 

Till  his  thoughts  and  his  efforts  were  crowned  with  suc^ 
For  an  engine  uprose,  and  he  called  it — the  Press. 

4.  The  Pen  and  the  Press,  blest  alliance,  combined 
To  soften  the  heart  and  enlighten  the  mind ; 

For  that  to  the  treasures  of  knowledge  gave  birth, 
And  this  sent  them  forth  to  the  ends  of  the  earth ; 
Their  battles  for  truth  were  triumphant  indeed. 
And  the  rod  of  the  tyrant  was  snapped  like  a  reed  ; 
They  were  made  to  exalt  us — to  teach  us,  to  bless — 
Those  invincible  brothers — the  Pen  and  the  Press  ! 


86  SANDEKS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON    IX* 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Among  other  duties,  it  wa^  the  part  of  the 
Roman  Prefect  to  govern  the  city  in  the  absence  of  the  king,  emperor, 
or  consuls. 

2.  A  Peo  con'  sul  was  an  oflBcer  charged  with  the  duties  of  a  consul, 
without  being  himself  a  consul  His  authority  was  nearly  equal  to  that 
of  a  regular  consul. 

3.  The  Pub'lic  ans  were  the  collectors  of  taxes  among  the  Romans. 
They  were  deemed  oppressive  in  their  exactions. 

LIBERTY   AND   GREATNESS. 

LEGARE. 

1.  The  name  of  Republic  is  inscribed  upon  the  most  im- 
perishable monuments  of  the  human  race ;  and  it  is  probable 
that  it  will  continue  to  be  associated,  as  it  has  been  in  all  past 
ages,  with  whatever  is  heroic  in  character,  sublime  in  genius, 
and  elegant  and  brilliant  in  the  cultivation  of  arts  and  letters. 
What  land  has  ever  been  visited  with  the  influences  of  liberty, 
that  did  not  flourish  like  the  spring?  What  people  has  ever 
worshiped  at  her  altars,  without  kindling  with  a  loftier  spirit, 
and  putting  forth  nobler  energies  ?  Where  she  has  ever  acted, 
her  deeds  have  been  heroic.  Where  she  has  ever  spoken,  her 
eloquence  has  been  triumphant  and  sublime. 

2.  We  live  under  a  form  of  government,  and  in  a  state  of 
society,  to  which  the  world  has  never  yet  exhibited  a  parallel. 
Is  it  then  nothing  to  be  free  ?  How  many  nations  in  the 
whole  annals  of  human  kind,  have  proved  themselves  worthy 
of  being  so  ?  Is  it  nothing  that  we  are  Repub'licans  ?  Were 
all  men  as  enlightened,  as  brave,  as  proud  as  they  ought  to  be, 
would  they  suffer  themselves  to  be  insulted  with  any  other 
title  ?  Is  it  nothing  that  so  many  independent  sovereignties 
should  be  held  together  in  such  a  confederacy  as  ours  ?  What 
does  history  teach  us  of  the  difficulty  of  instituting  and  main- 
taining such  a  polity,  and  of  the  glory  that  ought  to  be  given 
to  those  who  enjoy  its  advantages  in  so  much  perfection,  and 
on  so  grand  a  scale  ? 

3.  Can  any  thing  be  more  striking  and  sublime,  than  tho 
idea  of  an  Imperial  Republic,  spreading  over  an  extent  of  ter- 
ritory, more  immense  than  the  empire  of  the  Caesars,  in  the 


FIFTHBOOK.  87 

accumulated  conquests  of  a  thousand  years — without  prefects, 
proconsuls,'  or  publicans' — founded  in  the  maxims  of  common 
sense — employing  within  itself  no  arms,  but  those  of  reason — 
and  known  to  its  subjects  only  by  the  blessings  it  bestows  and 
perpetuates,  yet  capable  of  directing,  against  a  foreign  foe  all 
the  energies  of  a  military  despotism, — a  Republic,  in  which  men 
are  completely  insignificant,  and  principles  and  laws  exercise, 
throughout  its  vast  domain,  a  peaceful  and  irresistible  sway, 
blending,  in  one  divine  harmony,  such  various  habits  and  con- 
flicting opinions,  and  mingling,  in  our  institutions,  the  light  of 
philosophy  with  all  that  is  dazzling  in  the  associations  of  heroic 
achievement,  extended  dominion,  and  formidable  power  ? 


LESSON    X* 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  The  Hartz  are  the  most  northerly  mount- 
ains in  Germany. 

2.  0'  DEN  WALD  is  an  extensive  forest  and  chain  of  mountains  in  "West- 
em  Germany. 

Directions  for  Reading. — In  reading  or  speaking  the  following  Dia- 
logue, the  Missionary  may  be  personated  by  a  mild,  yet  firm  tone  of  voice ; 
the  Indian,  by  a  heavy  and  strong  tone,  indicative  of  revengeful  feeUngs ; 
except  toward  the  close,  the  voice  should  become  softened. 

THE    INDIAN'S    REVENGE. 

Mrs.  Hemans. 

SCENE  IN  the  life  OF  A  MORAVIAN  MISSIONARY. 

Scene  — The  share  of  a  lake  surrounded  by  deep  woods.  A  solitary  cabin 
on  its  banks,  overshadowed  by  sycamore  trees.  The  hour  is  evening  twi- 
light.    Herrmann,  the  Missionary,  seated  alone  before  the  cabin. 

Herrmann. — Was  that  the  light  from  some  lone  swift  canoe 
Shooting  across  the  waters  ?     No  ;  a  flash 
From  the  night's  first  quick  fire-fly,  lost  again 
In  the  deep  bay  of  cedars.     Not  a  bark 
Is  on  the  wave ;  no  rustle  of  a  breeze 
Comes  through  the  forest.     In  this  new,  strange  world, 
O  how  mysterious,  how  eternal,  seems 
The  mighty  melancholy  of  the  woods ! 
The  desert's  own  great  spirit,  infinite ! 


88  SANDEES'    NEW    SERIES. 

Little  they  know,  in  mine  own  father-land, 

Along  the  castled  Rhine,  or  e'en  amidst 

The  wild  Hartz'  mountains,  or  the  silvan  glades 

Deep  in  the  Odenwald'^, — they  little  know 

Of  what  is  solitude !     In  hours  like  this, 

There,  from  a  thousand  nooks,  the  cottage  hearths 

Pour  forth  red  light  through  vine-hung  lattices, 

To  guide  the  peasant,  singing  cheerily. 

On  the  home-path ;  while,  round  his  lowly  porch, 

With  eager  eyes  awaiting  his  return, 

The  clustered  faces  of  his  children  shine 

To  the  clear  harvest  moon.     Be  still,  fond  thoughts ! 

Melting  my  spirit's  grasp  from  heavenly  hope 

By  your  vain,  earthward  yearnings.     0  my  God ! 

Draw  me  still  nearer,  closer  unto  Thee, 

Till  all  the  hollow  of  these  deep  desires 

May  with  Thyself  be  filled  ! — Be  it  enough 

At  once  to  gladden  and  to  solemnize 

My  lonely  life,  if,  for.  Thine  altar  here 

In  this  dread  temple  of  the  wilderness, 

By  prayer,  and  toil,  and  watching,  I  may  win 

The  offering  of  one  heart, — one  human  heart, 

Bleeding,  repenting,  loving ! 

(pp.)  Hark  !  a  step, — 
An  Indian  tread  !  I  know  the  stealthy  sound  ; 
'Tis   on  some  quest  of  evil,  through  the  grass 
Gliding  so  serpent-like. 

[ZTe  comes  forward,  and  meets  an  Indian  warrior  armed."] 

Enonio,  is  it  thou  ?     I  see  thy  form 

Tower  stately  through  the  dusk,  yet  scarce  mine  eye 

Discerns  thy  face, 
Enonio. —  My  father  speaks  my  name. 

ITerr. — Are  not  the  hunters  from  the  chase  returned  ? 

The  night-fires  lit  ?     Why  is  my  son  abroad  ? 
£no. — Tlie  warrior's  arrow  knows  of  nobler  prey 

Than  elk  or  deer.     Now  let  my  father  leave 

The  lone  path  free. 


FIFTH      BOOK.  89 

Herr. —  The  forest  way  is  long 

From  the  red  chieftain's  home.     Rest  thee  awhile 

Beneath  my  sycamore,  and  we  will  speak 

Of  these  things  further. 
Eno. —  Tell  me  not  of  rest ! 

My  heart  is  sleepless,  and  the  dark  night  swift ; 

I  must  begone. 
Herr. — \solemnly?[  No,  warrior,  tjiou  must  stay ! 

The  Mighty  One  hath  given  me  power  to  search 

Thy  soul  with  piercing  words,  and  thou  must  stay, 

And  hear  me,  and  give  answer !     If  thy  heart 

Be  grown  thus  restless,  is  it  not  because 

Within  its  dark  folds  thou  hast  mantled  up 

Some  burning  thought  of  ill  ? 
Eno. — \icith  sudden  impetuosity^  How  should  I  rest? 

Last  night  the  spirit  of  my  brother  came, 

An  angry  shadow  in  the  moonlight  streak, 

And  said  : — '■'■Avenge  me  /"     In  the  clouds  this  mom, 

I  saw  the  frowning  color  of  his  blood, 

And  that,  too,  had  a  voice.     I  lay,  at  noon. 

Alone  beside  the  sounding  waterfall, 

And  through  its  thunder-music  spake  a  tone — 

A  low  tone  piercing  all  the  roll  of  waves. 

And  said  : — ''■Avenge  me  /"     Therefore  have  I  raised 

The  tomahawk,  and  strung  the  bow  again, 

That  I  may  send  the  shadow  from  my  couch, 

And  take  the  strange  sound  from  the  cataract, 

And  sleep  once  more. 
Herr. —  A  better  path,  my  son,  «| 

Unto  the  still  and  dewy  land  of  sleep. 

My  hand  in  peace  can  guide  thee, — e'en  the  way 

Thy  dying  brother  trod.     Say,  didst  thou  love 

That  lost  one  well  ? 
Eno. —  Knowest  thou  not  we  grew  up 

Even  as  twin  roses  amidst  the  wilderness  ? 

Unto  the  chase  we  journeyed  in  one  path  ; 

We  stemmed  the  lake  in  one  canoe ;  we  lay 


90  SANDERS'    NEW     SERIES. 

Beneath  one  oak  to  rest.     "When  fever  hung 
Upon  my  burning  lips,  my  brother's  hand 
Was  still  beneath  my  head ;  my  brother's  robe 
Covered  my  bosom  from  the  chill  night  air. 
Our  lives  were  girdled  by  one  belt  of  love, 
Until  he  turned  him  from  his  fathers'  gods, 
And  then  my  soul  fell  from  him, — then  the  grass 
Grew  in  the  way  between  our  parted  homes  ; 
And  wheresoe'er  I  wandered,  then  it  seemed 
That  all  the  woods  were  silent.     I  went  forth, 
I  journeyed,  with  my  lonely  heart,  afar. 
And  so  returned, — and  where  was  he  ?     The  6arth 
Owned  him  no  more. 

Herr. —  But  thou  thyself,  since  then. 

Hast  turned  thee  from  the  idols  of  thy  tribe, 
And,  like  thy  brother,  bowed  the  suppliant  knee 
To  the  one  God. 

Eno. —  Yes ;  I  have  learned  to  pray 

With  my  white  father's  words,  yet  all  the  more 
My  heart  that  shut  against  my  brother's  love, 
Hath  been  within  me  as  an  arrowy  fire. 
Burning  my  sleep  away.     In  the  night  hush, 
'Midst  the  strange  whispers  and  dim  shadowy  things 
Of  the  great  forests,  I  have  called  aloud  : — 
"  Brother  !  forgive,  forgive !"     He  answered  not ; 
His  deep  voice,  rising  from  the  land  of  souls, 
Cries  but  "  Avenge  me  /"  and  I  go  forth  now 
To  slay  his  murderer,  that,  when  next  his  eyes 
Gleam  on  me  moui'nfully  from  that  pale  shore, 
I  may  look  up,  and  meet  their  glance,  and  say : — 
"  /  have  avenged  thee  /" 

Herr. —  Oh  !  that  huinan  love 

Should  be  the  root  of  this  dread  bitterness, 
Till  Heaven  through  all  the  fevered  being  pours 
Transmuting  balsam  !     Stay,  Enonio,  stay ! 
Thy  brother  calls  thee  not !     The  spirit-world. 
Where  the  departed  go,  sends  back  to  earth 


FIFTH      BOOK.  91 

No  visitants  for  evil.     'Tis  the  miofht 
Of  the  strong  passion,  the  remorseful  grief 
At  work  iu  thine  own  breast,  which  lends  the  voice 
Unto  the  forest  and  the  cataract, 
The  angry  color  to  the  clouds  of  morn, 
The  shadow  to  the  moonlight.     Stay,  my  son ! 
Thy  brother  is  at  peace.     Beside  his  couch. 
When  of  the  murderer's  poisoned  shaft  he  died, 
I  knelt  and  prayed  ;  he  named  his  Savior's  name, 
Meekly,  beseechingly  ;  he  spoke  of  thee 
In  pity  and  in  love. 
Eno. — \hurriedly.^         Did  he  not  say 

My  arrow  should  avenge  him  ? 
Herr. — His  last  words  were  all  forgiveness. 
Eno. —  What !  and  shall  the  man 

Who  pierced  him  with  the  shaft  of  treachery, 
Walk  fearless  forth  in  joy  ? 
Herr. —  Was  he  not  once 

Thy  brother's  friend  ?     Oh  !  trust  me,  not  in  joy 

He  walks  the  frowning  forest.     Did  keen  love, 

Too  late  repentant  of  its  heart  estranged, 

Wake  in  thy  haunted  bosom,  with  its  train 

Of  sounds  and  shadows,  and  shall  he  escape  ? 

Enonio,  dream  it  not !     Our  God,  the  All-Just, 

Unto  Himself  reserves  this  royalty, — 

The  secret  chastening  of  the  guilty  heart, 

The  fiery  touch,  the  scourge  that  purifies. 

Leave  it  with  Him !     Yet  make  it  not  thy  hope; 

For  that  strong  heart  of  thine — Oh !  listen  yet — 

Must,  in  its  depths,  o'ercome  the  very  wish 

For  death  or  torture  to  the  guilty  one, 

Ere  it  can  sleep  again. 
Eno. —  My  father  speaks 

Of  change,  for  man  too  mighty. 
Herr.—  I  but  speak 

Of  that  which  hath  been,  and  again  must  be, 

If  thou  wouldst  join  thy  brother,  in  the  life 


92  SANDEES'      NEW      SERIES. 

Of  the  bright  country,  where,  I  well  believe, 

His  soul  rejoices.     He  had  known  such  change. 

He  died  in  peace.     He  whom  his  tribe  once  named 

"  The  Avenging  Eagle,"  took  to  his  meek  heart, 

In  its  last  pangs,  the  spirit  of  those  words 

Which,  from  the  Savior's  cross,  went  up  to  Heaven  >. — 

*'  Forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do; 

Father,  forgive  /"     And,  o'er  the  eternal  bounds 

Of  that  celestial  kingdom,  undefiled. 

Where  evil  may  not  enter,  he,  I  deem. 

Hath  to  his  Master  passed.     He  waits  thee  there ; 

For  love,  we  trust,  springs  Heavenward  from  the  grave, 

Immortal  in  its  holiness.     He  calls 

His  brother  to  the  land  of  golden  light 

And  ever-living  fountains.     Couldst  thou  hear 

His  voice  o'er  those  bright  waters,  it  would  say : — 

"  My  brother  !  Oh  !  be  pure,  be  merciful, 

That  we  may  meet  again." 

Mno. — [Hesitatingly^  Can  I  return 

Unto  my  tribe,  and  unavenged  ? 

Hcrr.—  To  Him, 

To  Him  return,  from  whom  thine  erring  steps 

Have  wandered  far  and  long  !     Return,  my  son, 

To  thy  Redeemer !     Died  He  not  in  love — 

The  sinless,  the  Divine,  the  Son  of  God, 

Breathing  forgiveness  'midst  all  his  agonies, 

And  we,  dare  we  be  ruthless  ?     By  His  aid 

Shalt  thou  be  guided  to  thy  brother's  place 

'Midst  the  pure  spirits.     Oh  !  retrace  thy  way 

Back  to  the  Savior !     He  rejects  no  heart, 

E'en  with  the  dark  stains  on  it,  if  true  tears 

Be  o'er  them  showered.     Ay,  weep  thou,  Indian  Chief! 

For,  by  the  kindling  moonlight,  I  behold 

Thy  proud  lips'  working  :  weep,  relieve  thy  soul ! 

Tears  will  not  shame  thy  manhood,  in  the  hour 

Of  its  great  conflict.  [the  bow ; 

Eno. — ^Giving  wo  his  weapons  to  Herrmann^    Father,  take 


FIFTHBOOK.  93 

Keep  the  sharp  arrows  till  the  hunters  call 
Forth  to  the  chase  once  more.     And  let  me  dwell 
A  little  while,  my  father,  by  thy  side, 
That  I  may  hear  the  blessed  words  again, 
Like  water-brooks  amidst  the  summer  hills, 
From  thy  true  lips  flow  forth ;  for,  in  my  heart, 
The  music  and  the  memory  of  their  sound 
Too  long  have  died  away. 
Herr. —  O,  welcome  back, 

Friend,  rescued  one  !     Yes ;  thou  shalt  be  my  guest, 
And  we  will  pray  beneath  my  sycamore 
Together,  morn  and  c\  e  ;  and  I  will  spread 
Thy  couch  beside  my  fire,  and  sleep,  at  last, 
After  the  visiting  of  holy  thoughts, 
With  dewy  wing,  shall  sink  upon  thine  eyes ! 
Enter  my  home,  and  welcome,  welcome  back 
To  peace,  to  God,  thou  lost  and  found  again  ! 

\T]iey  go  into  the  cabin  together. — Herrmann,  lingering  for  a  moment  on 
the  threslwld,  looks  up  to  the  starry  skies.\ 

Father  !  that  from  amidst  yon  glorious  worlds 

Now  look'st  on  us,  Thy  children  !  make  this  hour 

Blessed  forever !     May  it  see  the  birth 

Of  Thine  own  image  in  the  unfathomed  deep 

Of  an  immortal  soul, — a  thing  to  name 

With  reverential  thought,  a  solemn  world  ! 

To  Thee  more  precious  than  those  thousand  stars 

Burning  on  high  in  Thy  majestic  Heaven ! 

» «  ♦  « » 


LESSON  XU 
FORGIYE    AND    FOJIGET. 

CHARLES  SWAIN 

1.  Forgive  and  forget !  why  the  world  would  be  lonely, 
The  garden,  a  wilderness  left  to  deform, 
If  the  flowers  but  remembered  the  chilling  winds  only, 
And  the  fields  gave  no  verdure  for  fear  of  the  storm. 


94  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Oh,  still  in  tby  loveliness  emblem  the  flower, 

Give  the  fragrance  of  feeling  to  sweeten  life's  way  ; 

And  prolong  not  again  the  brief  cloud  of  an  hour, 
With  tears  that  but  darken  the  rest  of  the  day  ! 

2.  Forgive  and  forget !  there's  no  breast  so  unfeeling, 

But  some  gentle  thoughts  of  affection  there  live ; 
And  the  best  of  us  all  require  something  concealing, 

Some  heart  that  with  smiles  can  forget  and  forgive. 
Then  away  with  the  cloud  from  those  beautiful  eyes ; 

That  brow  was  no  home  for  such  frowns  to  have  met ; 
O,  how  could  our  spirits  e'er  hope  for  the  skies, 

If  Heaven  refused — to  forgive  and  forget? 


• »  ♦  •  < 


LESSON  XIU 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  The  Del'  ta  is  an  island  formed  by  two 
mouilis  of  the  river  Nile,  so  called  from  its  resemblance,  in  shape,  to 
Delta,  the  name  of  the  fourth  Greek  letter  (A),  answering  to  D.  It  has 
been  formed  by  the  mud  and  sand,  washed  down  from  the  upper  parts  of 
Egypt,  by  the  frequent  overflowing  of  the  Nile. 

2.  The  Sphixx  is  a  colossal  statue  in  Egypt,  which  is  one  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  long  and  sixty-three  feet  in  hight.  It  has  the  form  of  a  human 
head  on  the  body  of  a  lion,  in  a  recumbent  posture.  Those  of  a  smaller 
size  are  found  among  the  tombs  of  Egypt.  Among  the  ancients,  the 
Sphinx  was  a  fabulous  monster  of  hideous  form. 

DESCRIPTION    OP    THE    PYRAMIDS. 

DR.   E.   D.   CLARKE, 

1.  We  were  roused  as  soon  as  the  sun  dawned,  by  Antony, 
our  faithful  Greek  servant  and  interpreter,  with  the  intelli- 
gence that  the  pyramids  were  in  view.  We  hastened  from 
the  cabin ;  and  never  will  the  impression  made  by  their  ap- 
pearance be  obliterated.  By  reflecting  the  sun's  rays,  they  ap- 
pear as  white  as  snow,  and  of  such  surprising  magnitude,  that 
nothing  we  had  previously  conceived  in  our  imagination,  had 
prepared  us  for  the  spectacle  we  beheld. 

2.  The  sight  instantly  convinced  us  that  no  power  of  de- 
scription, no  delineation,  can  convey  ideas  adequate  to  the  ef- 


FIFTHBOOK.  95 

feet  produced  in  viewing  these  stupendous  monuments.  The 
formality  of  their  construction  is  lost  in  their  prodigious  mag- 
nitude;  the  mind,  elevated  by  wonder,  feels  at  once  the  force 
of  an  axiom,  which,  however  disputed,  experience  confirms,  that 
in  vastness,  whatsoever  be  its  nature,  there  dwells  sublimity. 

3.  Another  proof  of  their  indescribable  power,  is,  that  no 
one  ever  approached  them  with  other  emotions  than  those  of 
terror,  which  is  another  principal  source  of  the'  sublime.  In 
certain  instances  of  irritable  feeling,  this  impression  of  awe  and 
fear  has  been  so  great  as  to  cause  pain  rather  than  pleasure ; 
hence,  perhaps,  have  originated  descriptions  of  the  pyramids* 
which  represent  them  as  deformed  and  gloomy  masses,  with- 
out taste  or  beauty. 

4.  Persons  who  have  derived  no  satisfaction  from  the  con- 
templation of  them,  may  not  have  been  conscious  that  the 
uneasiness  which  they  experienced,  was  a  result  of  their  own 
sensibility.  Others  have  acknowledged  ideas  widely  different, 
excited  by  every  wonderful  circumstance  of  character  and  of 
situation — ideas  of  duration,  almost  endless ;  of  power,  incon- 
ceivable ;  of  majesty,  supreme  ;  of  solitude,  most  awful ;  of 
grandeur,  of  desolation,  and  of  repose. 

5.  Upon  the  23d  of  August,  1802,  we  set  out  for  the 
pyramids,  the  inundation  enabling  us  to  approach  within  less 
than  a  mile  of  the  larger  pyramid,  in  our  boat.  Our  approach 
to  the  pyramids  was  through  a  swampy  country,  by  means  of 
a  narrow  canal,  which,  however,  was  deep  enough ;  and  we 
arrived,  without  any  obstacle,  at  nine  o'clock,  at  the  bottom 
of  a  sandy  slope,  leading  up  to  the  principal  pyramid.  Some 
Bedouin  Arabs  who  had  assembled  to  receive  us  upon  our 
landing,  were  much  amused  by  the  eagerness,  excited  in  our 
whole  party,  to  prove  who  should  first  set  his  foot  upon  the 
summit  of  this  artificial  mountain. 

6.  With  what  amazement  did  we  survey  the  vast  surface 
that  was  presented  to  us,  when  we  arrived  at  this  stupendous 
monument  which  seemed  to  reach  the  clouds !  Here  and 
there  appeared  some  Arab  guides  upon  the  immense  masses 
above  us,  like  so  many  pigmies,  waiting  to  show  the  way  to 


96  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

the  summit.  Now  and  then  we  tliought  we  heard  voices,  and 
listened ;  but  it  was  the  wind  in  powerful  gusts  sweeping  the 
immense  ranges  of  stone. 

7.  Already  some  of  our  party  had  begun  the  ascent,  and 
were  pausing  at  the  tremendous  depth  which  they  saw  below. 
One  of  our  military  company,  after  having  surmounted  the 
most  difficult  part  of  the  undertaking,  became  giddy  in  conse- 
quence of  looking  down  from  the  elevation  he  had  attained, 
and,  being  compelled  to  abandon  the  project,  he  hired  an  Arab 
to  assist  him  in  effecting  his  descent.  The  rest  of  us,  more 
accustomed  to  the  business  of  climbing  hights,  with  many  a 
halt  for  respiration,  and  many  an  exclamation  of  wonder,  pur- 
sued our  way  toward  the  summit. 

8.  The  mode  of  ascent  has  been  frequently  described ;  and 
yet,  from  the  questions  which  are  often  proposed  to  travelers, 
it  does  not  appear  to  be  generally  understood.  The  reader 
may  imagine  himself  to  be  upon  a  stair-case,  every  step  of 
which,  to  a  man  of  middle  stature,  is  nearly  breast  high,  and 
the  breadth  of  each  step  is  equal  to  its  hight ;  consequently, 
the  footing  is  secure  ;  and,  although  a  retrospect,  in  going  up, 
be  sometimes  fearful  to  persons  unaccustomed  to  look  down 
from  any  considerable  elevation,  yet  there  is  little  danger  of 
falling.  In  some  places,  indeed,  where  the  stones  are  de- 
cayed, caution  may  be  required,  and  an  Arab  guide  is  always 
necessary  to  avoid  a  total  interruption  ;  but,  upon  the  whole, 
the  means  of  ascent  are  such  that  almost  every  one  may  ac- 
complish it. 

9.  Our  progress  was  impeded  by  other  causes.  We  carried 
with  us  a  few  instruments,  such  as  our  boat-compass,  a  ther- 
mometer, a  telescope,  &c. ;  these  could  not  be  trusted  in  tlie 
hands  of  the  Arabs,  and  they  were  liable  to  be  broken  every 
instant.  At  length,  we  reached  the  topmost  tier,  to  the  great 
delight  and  satisfaction  of  all  the  party.  Here  we  found  a 
platform  thirty-two  feet  square,  consisting  of  nine  large  stones, 
each  of  which  might  weigh  about  a  ton,  although  they  are 
much  inferior  in  size  to  some  of  the  stones  used  in  the  con- 
struction of  this  pyramid. 


F  I  F  T  n     B  O  O  K  .  97' 

10.  Travelers  of  all  ages,  and  of  various  nations,  have  liere 
inscribed  their  names.  Some  are  written  in  Greek,  many  in 
French,  a  few  in  Arabic,  one  or  two  in  English,  and  others  in 
Latin.  We  were  as  desirous  as  our  predecessors,  to  leave  a 
memorial  of  our  arrival ;  it  seemed  to  be  a  tribute  of  thankful- 
ness due  for  the  success  of  our  undertaking ;  and  presently 
every  one  of  our  party  was  seen  busied  in  adding  the  inscrip- 
tion of  his  name. 

11.  The  view  from  this  eminence  amply  fulfilled  our  expect- 
ations ;  nor  do  the  accounts  which  have  been  given  of  it,  as  it 
appears  at  this  season  of  the  year,  exaggerate  the  novelty  and 
grandeur  of  the  sight.  All  the  region  toward  Cairo  and  the 
Delta,'  resembled  a  sea  covered  with  innumerable  islands. 
Forests  of  palm-trees  were  seen  standing  in  the  water,  the  in- 
undation spreading  over  the  land  where  they  stood,  so  as  to 
give  them  an  appearance  of  growing  in  the  flood. 

12.  To  the  north,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  nothing  could 
be  discerned  but  a  watery  surface  thus  diversified  by  planta- 
tions and  by  villages.  To  the  south  we  saw  the  pyramids  of 
Saccara ;  and,  upon  the  east  of  these,  smaller  monuments  of 
the  same  kind  nearer  to  the  Nile.  An  appearance  of  ruins 
might,  indeed,  be  traced  the  whole  Avay  from  these  pyramids  to 
those  of  Saccara,  as  if  they  had  been  once  connected,  so  as  to 
constitute  one  vast  cemetery. 

13.  Beyond  the  pyramids  of  Saccara  we  could  perceive  the 
distant  mountains  of  the  Said  ;  and,  upon  an  eminence  near  the 
Libyan  side  of  the  Nile,  appeared  a  monastery  of  considerable 
size.  Toward  the  west  and  south-west,  the  eye  ranged  over 
the  great  Libyan  Desert,  extending  to  the  utmost  verge  of  the 
horizon,  without  a  single  object  to  interrupt  the  dreary  horror 
of  the  landscape,  except  dark  floating  spots  caused  by  the  shad- 
ows of  passing  clouds  upon  the  sand. 

14.  Upon  the  south-east  side  is  the  gigantic  statue  of  the 
Sphinx,"  the  most  colossal  piece  of  sculpture  which  remains  of 
all  the  works  executed  by  the  ancients.  The  French  have  uncov- 
ered all  the  pedestal  of  this  statue,  and  all  the  cumbent  or  leonine 
parts  of  the  figure ;  these  were  before  entirely  concealed  by  sand. 

5 


98  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Instead,  however,  of  answering  the  expectations  raised  con- 
cerning the  work,  upon  which  it  was  supposed  to  rest,  the  pe- 
destal proves  to  be  a  wretched  substructure  of  brick-work  and 
small  pieces  of  stone  put  together,  like  the  most  insignificant 
piece  of  modern  masonry,  and  wholly  out  of  character,  both 
with  respect  to  the  prodigious  labor  bestowed  upon  the  statue 
itself,  and  the  gigantic  appearance  of  the  surrounding  objects. 


LESSON   XIIU 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Mem  no'  ni  um  was  a  palace  of  ancient 
Thebes,  in  Egypt,  dedicated  to  Memnon,  an  ancient  hero.  It  is  now,  as 
well  as  most  of  the  city,  in  wliich  it  was  located,  in  ruins,  among  which 
is  a  colossal  statue  of  Memnon. 

2.  Pom'  pey's  Pil'  lar,  is  a  stupendous  monumental  column  at  Alex- 
andria, in  Egypt.     It  is  uncertain  by  whom  or  for  whom  it  was  built. 

3.  Bal'  bec,  the  ancient  Heliopolis,  or  City  of  the  Sun,  in  Syria,  pre- 
sents the  finest  ruins  of  the  east.  It  contained  a  magnificent  temple  of 
the  Sun,  a  great  part  of  which  is  still  uninjured.  It  is  one  of  the  most 
splendid  remains  of  antiquity.  The  size  of  the  stones,  of  which  it  ia 
built,  is  astonishing.  No  mechanical  expedients  now  known,  would  ba 
able  to  place  them  in  their  present  position. 

THE   RAVAGES   OF   TIME. 

1.  ('i-)  I  SAW  a  vale — sequestered — green, — 

From  which  a  crystal  fount  was  welling ; 
Its  silv'ry  tide,  whose  rippling  sheen, 
Over  the  tufted  marge  was  swelling. 

2.  And  onward,  o'er  its  verdant  bed, 

Yet  noiseless — one  might  mark  it  stealing  ; 
Now  "  hiding  its  diminished  head," 
And  now  again  its  course  revealing. 

3.  Time  sped.     That  brooklet  onward  flowed 

To  mingle  with  the  mighty  ocean  ; 
And  all  the  charms  its  source  bestowed. 
Were  lost  amid  the  waves'  commotion. 

4.  I  saw  upon  Nile's  sacred  banks, 

The  mighty  Pyramids,  uprearing 


FIFTHBOOK.  99 

Their  cloud-capt  heads  ;  grim,  aged  ranks 
Of  Sphinxes,  'midst  the  tombs  appearing. 

5.  And  the  Memnonium,^  too,  was  there, — 

Gigantic — musical — and  solemn  ; 
While,  high  in  the  transparent  air. 

Old  Pompey^  raised  his  wondrous  column* 

6  I  sought  that  classic  scene  again, — 

How  little  of  its  beauty  lingers  ! 
For  Memnon  lies  upon  the  plain, 

O'erthrown  by  Time's  decaying  fingers  ! 

1.  And  where  is  Carthage  ?  where  is  Rome, 

With  all  the  glories  which  it  cherished  ? 
Where  sumptuous  Athens  ?  Balbec's'  dome  ? 
Time  touched  them — and  they  perished  ! 


<  ^  *  ^  > 


LESSON  XIY* 

DmECTiON. — The  movement  of  the  voice  in  reading  or  speaking  the  fol 
lowing  poetry,  should,  for  the  most  part,  be  quick,  expressing  earnestness. 
The  fifth  verse  should  be  spoken  in  a  tone  denoting  sadness  and  disap. 
pointment. 

THE  VOTARY  OP    PLEASURE. 

CHARLES  H.  LYON. 

1.  I  SAW  a  gallant  youth  depart 

From  his  early  home. 

O'er  the  world  to  roam ; 
(=)  With  joyous  eye,  and  bounding  heart, 

Did  he  speed  along 

Through  the  mingled  throng; 
And  he  recked  not  of  aught  that  lay  in  his  course, 
As  he  onward  moved,  with  the  impetuous  force 
Of  a  spirit  free,  and  unrestrained, 
That  ne'er  would  rest  till  its  goal  was  gained. 

2.  "  Whither,  0  Youth,"  a  voice  inquired, 

With  an  earnest  tone, 
And  a  stifled  groan, 


100  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

"Art  bound  so  swift,  as  thou  wast  fired 
In  thy  inmost  mind 
With  an  impulse  blind  ?" 
"  I  am  bound  for  the  realm,  be  it  far  or  near," 
The  rover  replied,  as  he  checked  his  career, 
"  Where  pleasure  is  found,  and  mirth,  and  glee, 
And  a  ceaseless  flow  of  gayety." 

5.  I  saw  that  youthful  form  once  more, 

When  the  goal  was  gained. 

And  its  end  attained  ; 
I  knew  its  brief  pursuit  was  o'er. 

From  its  altered  mien, 

And  its  faded  sheen. 
Ah !  the  bounding  heart,  and  the  joy-beaming  eye, 
Were  succeeded  by  tears,  and  the  deep-drawn  sigh ; 
Of  beauty,  and  manly  pride,  and  grace, 
There  scarcely  lingered  a  single  trace. 

4.  "  0,  what,"  the  voice  inquired  again, 

"  Hath  wrought  this  change, 
So  sad  and  strange  ? 
Didst  thou,  at  length,  O  Youth,  obtain. 
In  its  full  measure. 
Thy  heart's  fond  treasure  ? 
"  Didst  thou  gain  the  realm  where  the  pleasures  of  sense 
In  profusion  flow,  unrestrained,  and  intense  ? 
Didst  thou  reach  the  sphere  where  mirth  and  glee 
Are  blended  with  ceaseless  gayety  ?" 

6.  "  Too  soon  !"  exclaimed  the  stricken  form. 

With  down  cast  eye 
And  a  bitter  sigh, 
"While  hope  was  young,  and  passion  warm. 
Did  my  ardent  soul 
Reach  the  fatal  goal. 
"  Ah  !  my  spirit  hath  been  with  the  giddy  throng. 
And  shared  in  the  revel,  the  cup,  and  the  song ; 


FIFTH     BOOK.  101. 

But  its  tone  is  gone ;  'tis  stricken  now ; 
The  CUESE  of  pleasure  is  on  my  brow." 

6.         But  pleasures  are  like  poppies  spread, 

You  seize  tlie  fiow'r — its  bloom  is  shed; 
Or  like  the  snow-falls  in  the  river, — 
A  moment  white — then  lost  forever ; 
Or  like  the  borealis  race, 
That  flit  ere  you  can  point  their  place  ; 
Or  like  the  rainbow's  lovely  form. 
Evanishing  amid  the  storm. — Burns. 

Y.  Give  Pleasure's  name  to  naught  but  what  has  passed 
The  authentic  seal  of  Reason,  and  defies 
The  tooth  of  Time ;  when  past,  a  pleasure  still ; 
Dearer  on  trial,  lovelier  for  its  age. 
And  doubly  to  be  prized,  as  it  promotes 
Our  future,  while  it  forms  our  present  joy. 

8.  Some  joys  the  future  overcast,  and  some 

Throw  all  their  beams  that  way,  and  gild  the  tomb. 

Some  joys  endear  eternity ;  some  give 

Abhorred  Annihilation  dreadful  charms. 

Are  rival  joys  contending  for  thy  choice  ? 

Consult  thy  whole  existence,  and  be  safe ; 

That  oracle  will  put  all  doubt  to  flight. — Young. 


LESSON  XV* 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Naz  a  r^nie  was  a  name  given  in  derision 
to  tlie  first  Cliristians  by  their  enemies,  because  Nazaretli  was  the  place 
of  residence  of  our  Savior. 

2.  A  pol'  lo,  among  the  ancients,  was  the  fabled  god  of  the  Fine  Arts. 
He  is  said  to  have  performed  several  great  deeds,  as  the  destroying  of  a 
monstrous  serpent  sent  by  the  goddess  Juno  to  persecute  Latona. 

THE    GLADIATOR. 
1.  Stillness  reigned  in  the  vast  amphitheater,  and  from  the 
countless  thousands  that  thronged  the  spacious  inclosure,  not 


102  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

a  breath  was  heard.  Every  tongue  was  mute  with  suspense, 
and  every  eye  strained  with  anxiety  toward  the  fatal  portal, 
where  the  gladiator  was  momentarily  expected  to  enter.  At 
length,  the  trumpet  sounded,  and  they  led  him  forth  into  the 
broad  arena.  There  was  no  mark  of  fear  upon  his  manly  coun- 
tenance, as,  with  majestic  step  and  fearless  eye,  he  entered. 
He  stood  there,  like  another  Apollo",  firm  and  unbending  as 
the  rigid  oak.  His  fine  proportioned  form  was  matchless,  and 
his  turgid  muscles  spoke  his  giant  strength. 

2.  "  I  am  here,"  he  cried,  as  his  proud  lip  curled  in  scorn, 
"to  glut  the  savage  eyes  of  Rome's  proud  populace.  Ay, 
like  a  dog,  you  throw  me  to  a  beast;  and  what  is  my  of- 
fense ?  Why,  forsooth,  I  am  a  Christian.  But  know,  ye  can 
not  fright  my  soul ;  for  it  is  based  upon  a  foundation  stronger 
than  the  adamantine  rock.  Know  ye,  whose  hearts  arc  harder 
than  the  flinty  stone,  my  heart  quakes  not  with  fear  ;  and  here 
I  aver,  I  would  not  change  conditions  with  the  blood-stained 
Nero,  crowned  though  he  be,  not  for  the  wealth  of  Rome. 
Blow  ye  your  trumpet, — I  am  ready." 

3.  The  trumpet  sounded,  and  a  long,  low  growl  was  heard 
to  proceed  from  the  cage  of  a  half-famished  Numidian  Lion, 
situated  at  the  farthest  end  of  the  arena.  The  growl  deep- 
ened into  a  roar  of  tremendous  volume,  which  shook  the  enor- 
mous edifice  to  its  very  center.  At  that  moment,  the  door 
was  thrown  open,  and  the  huge  monster  of  the  forest  sprung 
from  his  den,  with  one  mighty  bound  to  the  opposite  side  of 
the  arena.  His  eyes  blazed  with  the  brilliancy  of  fire,  as  he 
slowly  drew  his  length  along  the  sand,  and  prepared  to  make 
a  spring  upon  his  formidable  antagonist.  The  gladiator's  eye 
quailed  not ;  his  lip  paled  not ;  but  he  stood  immovable  as  a 
statue,  waiting  the  approach  of  his  wary  foe. 

4.  At  length,  the  lion  crouched  himself  into  an  attitude  for 
springing,  and,  with  the  quickness  of  lightning,  leaped  full  at 
the  throat  of  the  gladiator.  But  he  was  prepared  for  him, 
and,  bounding  lightly  on  one  side,  his  falchion  flashed  for  a  mo- 
ment over  his  head,  and,  in  the  next,  it  was  deeply  dyed  in  the 
purple  blood  of  the  monster.     A  roar  of  redoubled  fury  again 


FIFTH     BOOK.  103 

resounded  through  the  spacious  amphitheater,  as  the  enraged 
animal,  mad  with  anguish  from  the  wound  he  had  just  re- 
ceived, wheeled  hastily  round  and  sprung  a  second  time  at  the 
Nazarene.* 

5.  Again  was  the  falchion  of  the  cool  and  intrepid  gladiator, 
deeply  planted  in  the  breast  of  his  terrible  adversary ;  but  so 
sudden  had  been  the  second  attack,  that  it  was  impossible  to 
avoid  the  full  impetus  of  his  bound,  and  he  staggered  and  fell 
upon  his  knee.  The  monster's  paw  was  upon  his  shoulder, 
and  he  felt  his  hot  fiery  breath  upon  his  cheek,  as  it  rushed 
throuffh  his  wide  distended  nostrils.  The  Nazarene  drew  a 
short  dagger  from  his  girdle,  and  endeavored  to  regain  his  feet. 
But  his  foe,  aware  of  his  design,  precipitating  himself  upon 
him,  threw  him  with  violence  to  the  ground. 

6.  The  excitement  of  the  populace  was  now  wrought  up  to 
a  high  pitch,  and  they  waited  the  result  with  breathless  sus- 
pense. A  low  growl  of  satisfaction  now  announced  the  noble 
animal's  triumph,  as  he  sprang  fiercely  upon  his  prostrate  en- 
emy. But  it  was  of  short  duration  ;  the  dagger  of  the  gladia- 
tor pierced  his  vitals,  and  together  they  rolled  over  and  over, 
across  the  broad  arena.  Again  the  dagger  drank  deep  of  the 
monster's  blood,  and  again  a  roar  of  anguish  reverberated 
through  the  stately  edifice. 

7.  The  Nazarene,  now  watching  his  opportunity,  sprung 
with  the  velocity  of  thought  from  the  terrific  embrace  of  his  en- 
feebled antagonist,  and  regaining  his  falchion  which  had  fallen 
to  the  ground  in  the  struggle,  he  buried  it  deep  in  the  heart 
of  the  infuriated  beast.  The  noble  king  of  the  forest,  faint 
from  the  loss  of  blood,  concentrated  all  his  remaining  strength 
in  one  mighty  bound ;  but  it  was  too  late ;  the  last  blow  had 
been  driven  home  to  the  center  of  life,  and  his  huge  form  fell, 
with  a  mighty  crash,  upon  the  arena,  amid  the  thundering 
acclamations  of  the  populace. 


8.  0  gentle  doctrine  of  Christ ! — doctrine  of  love,  and  of 
peace, — when  shall  all  mankind  know  thy  truth,  and  the  world 
smile,  with  a  new  happiness,  under  thy  life-giving  reign  ? 


104         •       SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON  XVU 

Explanatory  Note. — 1.  Si'  moom,  which  means  poisonotis,  is  a  "hot, 
noxious  wind  which  blows,  at  the  period  of  the  equinoxes,  in  Arabia 
and  Africa,  and  which  is  fatal  to  animal  life.  It  is  generated  by  the  ex- 
treme heat  of  the  sandy  deserts,  and  its  approach  is  indicated  by  terrible 
appearances.  A  dark  yellow  hue  pervades  the  eastern  horizon ;  a  thick 
sulphureous  exhalation  rises  from  the  ground,  which  is  hurried  round  in 
rapid  gyrations,  and  then  ascends  Luto  the  air,  covering  the  whole  heav- 
ens ;  hissing  and  crackling  sounds  are  heard,  accompanied  by  a  hot  cur- 
rent of  air.  Even  the  beasts  manifest  their  terror  by  their  howlmgs,  and 
by  thrusting  their  noses  to  the  ground.  Prom  this  conduct  of  the  beasts, 
travelers  have  learned  to  avoid  its  fatal  effects  by  faUing  on  the  face,  and 
holding,  as  much  as  possible,  the  breath. 

THE   SONG   OF   THE   SIMOOM. 

JAMES  STELLMAN,. 

1.  I  COME  from  my  home  in  tlie  desert  afar, 

My  fierce  fiery  steeds  I  have  yoked  to  my  car ; 
With  the  speed  of  the  lightning  I  rush  o'er  the  waste, 
And  strew  with  destruction  the  path  I  have  traced. 

2.  As  the  blast  from  a  furnace,  e'en  so  is  my  breath : 
I  spread  desolation — my  presence  is  death ; 

The  road  I  have  traveled  may  always  be  known 
By  the  bones  of  the  victims  that  o'er  it  are  strewn. 

3.  In  the  realms  where  I  revel,  no  waters  are  found, 
And  the  green  garb  of  nature  is  not  on  the  ground ; 
The  earth  and  its  produce  lies  shriveled  and  dead, 
Wherever  the  feet  of  my  coursers  may  tread. 

4.  The  desert,  the  desert,  right  gladsome  I  rove, 
Its  hot  arid  face  is  the  sight  that  I  love ; 

While  the  sun  in  his  strength  above  me  doth  glow, 
"    And  the  earth,  like  red  ashes,  is  burning  below. 

5.  No  rival  I  fear  in  my  barren  domain. 

Or  expect  diminution  my  power  will  sustain  ; 
Nor  ask  I  for  subjects  to  suffer  and  groan, — 
I  would  go  to  my  revels  and  riot  alone. 

6.  Away,  foolish  mortals,  approach  not  my  face. 
Ere  I  come  in  my  fury,  your  footsteps  retrace ; 


FIFTH     BOOK.  105 

Bow  down  to  the  dust,  hide  your  face  in  the  ground, 
And  dare  not  to  breathe  while  past  you  I  bound. 

Y.  At  the  sound  of  my  voice,  the  earth  trembles  with  fear, 
And  the  stoutest  ones  quail,  when  my  roarings  they  hear ; 
Deep  and  wide  are  the  furrows  I  plow  as  I  go. 
And  death  reaps  the  harvest  that  in  them  I  sow. 

8.  They  list  to  my  coming,  the  lone  pilgrim  bands, 
As  way-worn  and  weary  they  toil  o'er  the  sands ; 
In  vain  on  their  prophet*  for  succor  they  call ; 
Horses,  camels,  and  riders,  I  stifle  them  all. 

9.  Ere  now,  in  my  furious  career,  I've  met 

Some  proud  host  of  warriors,  unconquered  as  yet  •,  [ed. 
But  they  shrank  in  dismay  through  their  ranks  as  I  pass- 
O'erthrown  like  a  bulrush  when  torn  by  the  blast. 

10.  When  the  minionsf  of  Syria  Jehovah  defied. 

And  Israel  dismayed  with  their  fierceness  and  pride,' 
In  the  silence  of  night  'mong  the  boasters  I  sped, 
And  the  morning  beheld  them  lie  powerless  and  dead* 

11.  Back,  back  to  the  desert  my  right  royal  steeds! 
Ye  love  not  to  linger  near  streamlets  and  meads. 
Where  the  dew-spangled  grass  is  by  soft  breezes  fanned  ; 
Your  pasture's  the  waste,  and  your  couch  is  the  sand. 

12.  Soon,  soon  in  our  strength  we  will  come  forth  again, 
Eefreshed  like  a  giant  aroused  from  his  den ; 
While  nature  turns  pale  with  terrible  fear, 

As  we  scatter  destruction  and  death  far  and  near. 


LESSON   XVIU 


Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Mi'  cha  el  An'  ge  lo  and  Rap^i'  a  el  wera 
among  the  most  distinguished  of  modem  painters.  The  former  was  born 
iu  1474;  the  latter,  in  1483. 

2.  Tag'  i  tus  was  a  very  eminent  Latin  Historian,  who  lived  during  tha 
reign  of  the  Emperor  Nero. 

*  Mohammed.  f  Consult  the  19th  Chapter  of  2  Kmgs. 


106  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

3.  John  Locke  was  one  of  the  most  celebrated  philosophers  and  wri- 
ters of  his  age  and  country. 

4.  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  the  distinguished  Astronomer,  was  born  in 
1642.     He  lived  at  the  same  time  with  Locke. 

5.  Au  GUS'  TUS  C^'  SAR  was  the  first  Roman  Emperor.  He  received  the 
title  from  au  obsequious  Senate,  which  styled  him,  at  the  same  time,  Au- 
gustus,— a  title,  meaning  great.  He  ruled  with  prudence  and  moderation, 
and  his  measures  tended  to  increase  the  glory  and  prosperity  of  Rome. 
He  died  14  after  Christ. 

6.  Lou'  13  XIV.  succeeded  his  father  to  the  throne  of  France  when  only 
four  years  old,  and  reigned  seventy-three  years,  having  died  in  1715. 
His  reign  was  distinguished  for  the  great  statesmen,  generals,  and  literary 
and  scientific  men  who  then  lived. 

7.  Queen  Anne  ascended  the  English  throne  in  1702.  Her  reign  was 
distinguished  not  only  by  brilliant  successes  of  British  arms,  but,  also,  as 
the  golden  age  of  English  literature.  At  that  time  lived  the  most  learned 
and  eloquent  of  the  English  writers. 

8.  Eaus'  TUS,  or  Faust,  was  one  of  the  three  artists,  to  whom  the  in- 
vention of  the  art  of  printing  is  generally  ascribed. 

9.  Arch  i  me'  des  was  a  great  mathematician,  who  lived  two  centuries 
before  Christ.  He  constructed  a  machine,  by  which  he  raised  the  ships 
of  the  Romans  who  had  besieged  his  native  city,  Syracuse,  and  thereby 
let  them  fall  so  violently  into  the  water  that  they  sank.  Contemplating 
the  power  of  his  machines,  he  is  said  to  have  exclaimed: — "  Give  me  a 
place  on  which  to  stand,  and  I  will  raise  the  world." 

THE   PRESENT  AGE.  story. 

1.  We  live  in  an  extraordinary  age.  It  has  been  marked 
by  events  which  leave  a  durable  impression  upon  the  pages  of 
history  by  their  own  intrinsic  importance.  But  they  will  be 
read  with  far  deeper  emotions  in  their  effects  upon  future  ages ; 
in  their  consequences  upon  the  happiness  of  whole  commu- 
nities ;  in  the  direct  or  silent  changes  forced  by  them  into  the 
very  structure  of  society ;  in  the  establishment  of  a  new  and 
mighty  empire, — the  empire  of  public  opinion. 

2.  Other  ages  have  been  marked  by  brilliant  feats  in  arms. 
Wars  have  been  waged  for  the  best  and  for  the  worst  of  pur- 
poses. The  ambitious  conqueror  has  trodden  whole  nations 
under  his  feet,  to  satisfy  the  lust  of  power,  and  the  eagles 
of  Ills  victories  have  stood  on  either  extreme  of  the  civilized 
world.   The  barbarian  has  broken  loose  from  his  northern  fast- 


FIFTH    BOOK.  107 

hesses,  and  overwhelmed,  in  his  progress,  temples  and  thrones, 
the  adorers  of  the  true  God,  and  the  worshipers  of  idols. 

3.  Heroes  and  patriots  have  successfully  resisted  the  inva- 
ders of  their  country,  or  perished  in  its  defense ;  and,  in  each 
way,  have  given  immortality  to  their  exploits.  Kingdoms  have 
been  rent  asunder  by  intestine  broils,  or  by  struggles  for  free- 
dom. Bigotry  has  traced  out  the  march  of  its  persecutions  in 
footsteps  of  blood,  and  superstition  has  employed  its  terrors  to 
nerve  the  arm  of  the  tyrant,  or  immolate  his  victims.  There 
have  been  ancient  leagues  for  the  partition  of  empires,  for  the 
support  of  thrones,  for  the  fencing  out  of  human  improve- 
ment, and  for  the  consolidation  of  arbitrary  power. 

4.  There  have,  too,  been  bright  spots  on  the  earth,  where 
the  cheering  light  of  liberty  shone  in  peace ;  where  learning 
unlocked  its  stores  in  various  profusion  ;  where  the  arts  un- 
folded themselves  in  every  form  of  beauty  and  grandeur ;  where 
literature  loved  to  linger  in  academic  shades,  or  enjoy  the  pub- 
lic sunshine ;  where  song  lent  new  inspiration  to  the  temple  ; 
where  eloquence  alternately  consecrated  the  hall  of  legislation, 
or  astonished  the  forum  with  its  appeals. 

5.  We  may  not  assert,  that  the  present  age  can  lay  claim  to 
the  production  of  any  one  of  the  mightiest  efforts  of  human 
genius.  Homer  and  Virgil,  Shakspeare  and  Milton,  were  of 
other  days,  and  yet  stand  unrivaled  in  song.  Time  has  not 
inscribed  upon  the  sepulcher  of  the  dead  any  nobler  names  in 
eloquence  than  Demosthenes  and  Cicero.  Who  has  outdone 
the  chisel  of  Phidias,  or  the  pencil  of  Michael  Angelo'  and 
Raphael'  ? 

6.  Where  are  the  monuments  of  our  day,  whose  architect- 
are  dares  to  contend  AVith  the  Doric,  Ionic,  or  Corinthian  of 
Greece,  or  even  with  the  Composite  or  Gothic  of  later  times  ? 
History  yet  points  to  the  pregnant  though  brief  text  of  Tacitus,' 
and  acknowledges  no  finer  models  than  those  of  antiquity. 
The  stream  of  a  century  has  swept  by  the  works  of  Locke' 
and  Newton  ;*  yet  they  still  stand  alone  in  unapproached, — 
In  unapproachable  majesty. 

Y.  Nor  may  we  pronounce  that  the  present  age,  by  its  col- 


108  SANDEES'    NEW    SEEIES. 

lective  splendor  in  arts  and  arms,  casts  into  shade  all  former 
epochs.  The  era  of  Pericles  witnessed  a  combination  of  tal- 
ents and  acquirements,  of  celebrated  deeds  and  celebrated 
works,  which  the  lapse  of  twenty-two  centuries  has  left  unob- 
scured.  Augustus^,  surveying  his  mighty  empire,  could 
scarcely  contemplate  with  more  satisfaction  the  triumph  of  his 
arms,  than  the  triumph  of  the  philosophy  and  literature  of 
Rome.  France  yet  delights  to  dwell  on  the  times  of  Louis, 
the  Fourteenth^,  as  the  proudest  in  her  annals ;  and  England 
looks  back  upon  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne'  for  the  best  models 
of  her  literary  excellence. 

8.  But,  though  we  may  not  arrogate  to  ourselves  the  posses- 
sion of  the  first  genius,  or  the  first  era,  in  human  history,  let  it 
not  be  imagined  that  we  do  not  live  in  an  extraordinary  age. 
It  is  impossible  to  look  around  us  without  alternate  emotions 
of  exultation  and  astonishment.  What  shall  we  say  of  one 
revolution  which  created  a  nation  out  of  thirteen  feeble  colo- 
nies, and  founded  the  empire  of  liberty  upon  the  basis  of  the 
perfect  equality  in  rights,  and  representation  of  all  its  citizens  ? 
— which  commenced  in  a  struggle,  by  enlightened  men,  for 
principles,  and  not  for  places ;  and,  in  its  progress  and  conclu- 
sion, exhibited  examples  of  heroism,  patriotic  sacrifices,  and  dis- 
interested virtue,  which  have  never  been  surpassed  in  the  most 
favored  regions  ? 

9.  What  shall  we  say  of  this  nation  which  has,  in  fifty  years, 
quadrupled  its  population,  and  spread  itself  from  the  Atlantic 
to  the  Rocky  mountains,  not  by  the  desolations  of  successful 
war,  but  by  the  triumphant  march  of  industry  and  enterprise  ? 
What  shall  we  say  of  another  revolution,  which  shook  Europe 
to  its  center,  overturned  principalities  "and  thrones,  demolished 
oppressions  whose  iron  had  for  ages  entered  into  the  souls  of 
their  subjects,  and,  after  various  fortunes  of  victory  and  defeat, 
of  military  despotism  and  popular  commotion,  ended,  at  last,  in 
the  planting  of  free  institutions,  free  tenures,  and  representative 
government,  in  the  very  soil  of  absolute  monarchy  ? 

10.  What  shall  we  say  of  another  revolution,  or  rather  series 
of  revolutions,  which  has  restored  to  South  America  the  inde- 


FIFTH     BOOK.  109 

pendence  torn  from  her,  three  centuries  ago,  by  the  force  or 
by  the  fraud  of  those  nations  whose  present  visitations  bespeak 
a  Providence  which  superintends  and  measures  out,  at  awful 
distances,  its  rewards  and  its  retributions  ?  She  has  risen,  as 
it  were,  from  the  depths  of  the  ocean,  where  she  had  been 
buried  for  ages.  Her  shores  no  longer  murmur  with  the  hoarse 
surges  of  her  unnavigated  waters,  or  echo  the  jealous  footsteps 
of  her  armed  oppressors.  Her  forests  and  her  table-lands,  her 
mountains  and  her  valleys,  gladden  with  the  voices  of  the  free. 

11.  She  welcomes  to  her  ports  the  whitening  sails  of  com- 
merce. She  feels  that  the  treasures  of  her  mines,  the  broad 
expanse  of  her  rivers,  the  beauty  of  her  lakes,  the  grandeur  of 
her  scenery,  the  products  of  her  fertile  and  inexhaustible  soil, 
are  no  longer  the  close  domain  of  a  distant  sovereign,  but  the 
free  inheritance  of  her  own  children.  She  sees  that  these  are 
to  bind  her  to  other  nations  by  ties  which  outlive  all  compacts 
and  all  dynasties, — by  ties  of  mutual  sympathy,  mutual  equal- 
ity, and  mutual  interest. 

12.  One  of  the  most  striking  characteristics  of  our  age,  and 
that,  indeed,  which  has  worked  deepest  in  all  the  changes  of 
its  fortunes  and  pursuits,  is  the  general  diffusion  of  knowledge. 
This  is  emphatically  the  age  of  readina.  In  other  times,  this 
was  the  privilege  of  the  few  ;  in  ours,  it  is  the  possession  of  the 
many.  Learning  once  constituted  the  accomplishment  of  those 
in  the  higher  orders  of  society,  who  had  no  relish  for  active 
employment,  and  of  those  who  sought  to  escape  from  the 
weariness  of  their  common  duties. 

13.  Its  progress  may  be  said  to  have  been  gradually  down- 
ward from  the  higher  to  the  middle  classes  of  society.  It 
scarcely  reached  at  all,  in  its  joys  or  its  sorrows,  in  its  instruc- 
tions or  its  fantasies,  the  home  of  the  peasant  and  artisan.  It 
now  radiates  in  all  directions,  and  exerts  its  central  force  more 
in  the  middle  than  in  any  other  class  of  society.  The  princi- 
pal cause  of  this  change,  is  to  be  found  in  the  freedom  of  the 
press.  It  has  been  aided,  also,  by  the  system  of  free  schools, 
wherever  it  has  been  established ;  by  that  liberal  commerce 
which  connects,  by  golden  chains,  the  interests  of  mankind ; 


110  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

and,  above  all,  by  those  necessities  which  have  compelled  even 
absolute  monarchs  to  appeal  to  the  patriotism  and  common 
sentiments  of  their  subjects. 

14.  No  man  can  now  doubt  the  fact,,  that  wherever  the  press 
is  free,  it  will  emancipate  the  people  ;  wherever  knowledge  cir- 
culates unrestrained,  it  is  no  longer  safe  to  oppress  ;  wherever 
public  opinion  is  enlightened,  it  nourishes  an  independent,  mas- 
culine, and  healthful  spirit.  If  Faustus*  were  now  living,  he 
might  exclaim,  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  Archimedes,"  and 
with  a  far  nearer  approach  to  the  truth  : — "  Give  me  where  I 
may  place  a  free  press,  and  I  will  shake  the  world." 

15.  Scarcely  is  a  work  of  real  merit  dry  from  the  English 
press,  before  it  wings  its  way  to  both  the  Indies  and  Americas. 
It  is  found  in  the  most  distant  climates  and  the  most  seques- 
tered retreats.  It  charms  the  traveler  as  he  sails  over  rivers 
and  oceans.  It  visits  our  lakes  and  our  forests.  It  kindles  the 
curiosity  of  the  thick-breathing  city,  and  cheers  the  log  hut  of 
the  mountaineer.  The  Lake  of  the  Woods  resounds  with  the 
minstrelsy  of  our  mother  tongue,  and  the  plains  of  Hindostan 
are  tributarv  to  its  praise. 


LESSON   XVIIK 

Explanatory  Note. — 1.  Dr.  Ben'jamin  Frank' lin,  the  great  Ameri- 
can philosopher,  was  the  first  to  prove  the  identity  of  lightning  and  elec- 
tricity. This  he  did  by  means  of  a  kite  with  a  hempen  string,  on  which 
the  fluid  descended  from  a  passing  cloud.  This  discovery  led  to  the  in- 
rention  of  the  lightning-rod. 

THE  PRESENT  AGE.— Continued. 

CHANNING. 

1.  The  Present  Age!  In  these  brief  words,  what  a  world 
4jf  thought  is  comprehended  !  what  infinite  movements  !  what 
joys  and  sorrows  !  what  hope  and  despair !  what  faith  and 
doubt !  what  silent  grief  and  loud  lament !  what  fierce  conflicts 
and  subtle  schemes  of  policy!  what  private  and  public  revolu- 
tions !  In  the  period,  through  which  many  of  us  have  passed, 
what  thrones  have  been  shaken !  what  hearts  have  bled  !  what 


FIFTH     BOOK.  Ill 

millions  Lave  been  butcliered  by  tlieir  fellows  !  wbat  bopes  of 
philanthropy  have  been  blighted !  and,  at  the  same  time, 
what  magnificent  enterprises  have  been  achieved !  what  new 
provinces  won  to  science  and  art !  what  rights  and  liberties 
secured  to  nations ! 

2.  It  is  a  privilege  to  have  lived  in  an  age  so  stirring,  so 
eventful.  It  is  an  age  never  to  be  forgotten.  Its  voice  of 
warning  and  encouragement  is  never  to  die.  Its  impression  on 
history  is  indelible.  Amidst  its  events,  the  American  Revolu- 
tion,— the  first  distinct,  solemn  assertion  of  the  rights  of  man, 
— and  the  French  Revolution,  that  volcanic  force  which  shook 
the  earth  to  its  center,  are  never  to  pass  from  men's  minds. 

3.  Over  this  age,  the  night  will,  indeed,  gather,  more  and 
more,  as  time  rolls  away ;  but  in  that  night  two  forms  will  ap- 
pear, Washington  and  Napoleon; — the  one  a  lurid  meteor,  the 
other  a  benign,  serene  and  undecaying  star.  Another  Ameri- 
can name  will  live  in  history, — your  Franklin  ' ;  and  the  kite 
which  brought  lightning  from  heaven,  will  be  seen  sailing  in 
the  clouds  by  remote  posterity,  when  the  city  where  he  dwelt, 
may  be  known  only  by  its  ruins. 

4.  There  is,  however,  something  greater  in  the  age  than  in 
its  greatest  men  ;  it  is  the  appearance  of  a  new  power  in  the 
world, — the  appearance  of  the  multitude  of  men  on  that  stage, 
where,  as  yet,  the  few  have  acted  their  parts  alone.  This  in- 
fluence is  to  endure  to  the  end  of  time.  What  more  of  the 
present  is  to  survive  ?  Perhaps  much,  of  which  we  now  take 
no  note.  The  glory  of  an  age  is  often  hidden  from  itself.  Per- 
haps, some  word  has  been  spoken  in  our  day,  which  we  have 
not  deigned  to  hear,  but  which  is  to  grow  clearer  and  louder 
through  all  ages.  Perhaps,  some  silent  thinker  among  us,  is  at 
work  in  his  closet,  whose  name  is  to  fill  the  earth.  Perhaps, 
there  sleeps  in  his  cradle  some  reformer  who  is  to  move  the 
church  and  the  world, — who  is  to  open  a  new  era  in  history, 
— who  is  to  fire  the  human  soul  with  new  hope  and  new  daring. 

5.  What  else  is  there  to  survive  the  age  ?  That  which  the 
age  has  little  thought  of,  but  which  is  living  in  us  all, — the 
Soul,  the  Immortal  Spirit.     Of  this  all  ages  are  the  unfold- 


112  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

ings,  and  it  is  greater  than  all.  We  must  not  feel,  in  the  con- 
templation of  the  vast  movements  of  our  own  and  former 
times,  as  if  we  ourselves  were  nothing.  I  repeat  it,  we  are 
greater  than  all.  We  are  to  survive  our  age, — to  comprehend 
it,  and  to  pronounce  its  sentence.  As  yet,  however,  we  are 
encompassed  with  darkness.  The  issues  of  our  time,  how  ob- 
scure !  The  future,  into  which  it  opens,  who  of  us  can  foresee  ? 
To  the  Father  of  all  ages,  I  commit  this  future  with  humble, 
.yet  courageous  and  unfaltering  hope. 


LESSON    XIX* 

EsPLANATORT  NOTE. — 1.  The  following  poetry  was  transmitted  by 
the  Magnetic  Telegraph  from  Washington  to  Baltimore.  Though  this 
fact  adds  nothing  to  its  beauty,  yet  it  was  a  happy  thought  to  select  the 
wonderful  invention,  of  which  it  speaks,  as  the  medium  of  communication. 

THE  MAGNETIC  TELEGRAPH. 

MRS.   E.   L.   SCHE»MERHOEN. 

1.  Oh  !  carrier  dove,  spread  not  thy  wing, 

Thou  beauteous  messeng-er  of  air  ! 
To  waiting  eyes  and  hearts,  to  bring 
The  tidings  thou  wast  wont  to  bear. 

2.  Urge  not  the  flying  courser's  speed. 

Give  not  his  neck  the  loosened  rein, 
Nor  bid  his  panting  sides  to  bleed. 
As  swift  he  thunders  o'er  the  plain. 

3.  Touch  but  the  magic  wire,  and  lo! 

Thy  thought  is  borne  on  flaming  track ; 
And  swifter  far  than  winds  can  blow, 
Is  sped  the  rapid  answer  back. 

4.  Nerved  by  its  power,  our  spreading  land 

A  mighty  giant  proudly  lies  ; 
Touch  but  one  nerve  with  skillful  hand. 
Through  all  the  thrill  unbroken  flies. 

6.     The  dweller  on  the  Atlantic  shore 

A  word  may  breathe,  and  swift  as  light, 


FIFTH     BOOK.  113 

Where  far  Pacific's  waters  roar, 
That  word  speeds  on  with  magic  flight. 

6.  Thoughts,  fresh  kindling  in  the  mind, 

And  words,  the  echoes  of  the  soul, 
Borne  on  its  wiry  pinions,  bind 
Hearts  sundered  far  as  pole  from  pole. 

7.  As  flashes  o'er  the  summer  skies, 

The  lightning's  blaze  from  east  to  west ; 
O'er  earth  the  burning  fluid  flies, 
Winged  by  a  mortal's  proud  behest. 


LESSOM  XX* 

Explanatory  Note. — 1.  Java's  Tree,  or  the  Upas  Tree,  is  cele- 
brated for  its  poisonous  qualities,  wliich,  however,  have  been  greatly  ex- 
aggerated. The  emanations  from  this  tree  are  very  dangerous  to  certain 
persons,  whUe  others  are  not  affected  by  them.  From  the  juice  which 
flows  in  great  abundance  from  the  tree,  on  an  incision  being  made,  is 
prepared  the  frightful  Upas  poison. 

Direction.— In  reading  or  speaking  the  following,  the  falling  inflec- 
tion, agreeably  to  the  principle  set  forth  m  Rule  VII ,  should  generally 
prevail.  The  movement  should  be  slow,  accompanied  with  a  strong  and 
marked  emphasis  on  certain  peculiarly  expressive  words. 

SLANDER. 

milford  baed. 
1.  What  is  slander  ? 

'Tis  an  assassin  at  the  midnight  hour ; 

Urged  on  by  Envy,  that,  with  footstep  soft, 

(^.)  Steals  on  the  slumber  of  sweet  innocence, 

And,  with  the  dark  drawn  dagger  of  the  mind, 

Drinks  deep  the  crimson  current  of  the  heart. 

2.  It  is  a  worm  that  crawls  on  beauty's  cheek;, 

Like  the  vile  viper  in  a  vale  of  flowers. 

And  riots  in  ambrosial  blossoms  there. 

It  is  a  coward  in  a  coat  of  mail. 

That  wages  war  against  the  brave  and  wise, 

And  like  the  long,  lean  lizard  that  will  mar 

The  lion's  sleep,  it  wounds  the  noblest  breast 


114  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

3.  Oft  have  I  seen  this  demon  of  the  soul, 
This  murderer  of  sleep,  with  visage  smooth, 
And  countenance  serene  as  heaven's  own  sky ; 
But  storms  were  raving  in  the  world  of  thought ; — 

(p.)  Oft  have  I  seen  a  smile  upon  its  brow ; 
But,  like  lightning  from  a  stormy  cloud. 
It  shocked  the  soul  and  disappeared  in  darkness. 

4.  Oft  have  I  seen  it  weep  at  tales  of  woe. 

And  sigh  as  'twere  the  heart  would  break  with  anguish ; 
But,  like  the  drops  that  drip  from  Java's  Tree,* 
And  the  fell  blast*  that  sweeps  Arabian  sands, 
It  withered  every  flow'ret  of  the  vale. 

5.  I  saw  it  tread  upon  a  lily  fair. 

On  one,  of  whom  the  world  could  say  no  harm ; 
And,  although  sunk  beneath  the  mortal  wound, 
It  broke  into  one  sacred  sepulcher. 
And  dragged  its  victim  from  the  hallowed  grave 
For  public  eyes  to  gaze  on.     It  hath  wept. 
That  from  the  earth  its  victim  passed  away, 
Ere  it  had  taken  vengeance  on  his  virtues. 

6.  Yea,  I  have  seen  this  cursed  child  of  Envy 
Breathe  mildew  on  the  sacred  fame  of  him 
Who  once  had  been  his  country's  benefactor ; 

(^.)And  on  the  sepulcher  of  his  repose, 
Bedewed  with  many  a  tributary  tear. 
Dance  in  the  moonlight  of  a  summer's  sky, 
With  savage  satisfaction. 


■  «  » 


LESSON   XXK 

THE   PROPER   DIRECTION   OF   THE   INTELLECTUAL   AND 

MORAL  POWERS. 

STYLES. 

1.  Every  man  is  a  traitor  to  his  order  and  kind  in  the  crea- 
tion, who  avows  principles,  or  pursues  a  conduct  unworthy  of 
his  high  destination,  as  an   heir  of  immortality.     Whatever 


*  See  Explanatory  Note,  Lesson  XVI.,  page  104. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  115 

would  confine  the  human  existence  witliin  the  narrow  limits 
of  the  tomb,  whatever  would  render  the  present  state  infinitely 
important,  and  annihilate  the  future,  ought  to  excite  the  just 
and  generous  indignation  of  all  who  have  any  remembrance  of 
their  divine  original,  or  any  breathings  of  their  ancient  hope. 
To  choose  the  pleasures  of  this  world,  as  our  highest  good, — 
as  the  only,  or  even  the  chief  allotment  of  humanity,  is  debas- 
ing to  a  rational  nature,  subversive  of  all  virtuous  feelings  and 
sentiments,  and  certainly  destructive  of  abiding  happiness. 

2.  It  is  most  debasing  to  a  rational  nature,  whose  distin- 
guishing properties  are  understanding,  volition,  and  immortal- 
ity. The  two  former  ought  always  to  maintain  a  chief  and 
ultimate  reference  to  the  latter.  The  understanding  should  be 
employed  in  obtaining  just  and  sublime  ideas  of  the  character 
of  God,  in  seeking  after,  and  treasuring  up  refined  and  spirit- 
ual truths,  which  constitute  the  riches  of  a  soul,  whose  destiny 
is  to  dwell  forever  in  regions  where  such  truths  will  be  its  prin- 
cipal aliment.  The  xvill  should  be  directed  to  those  preferences 
and  vigorous  exertions  which  render  the  earth  insignificant^ 
and  by  which  the  spirit  is  disenthralled  from  sublunary  attrac- 
tion, and  carried  upward  to  the  reflection  of  angels,  and  the 
vision  of  God. 

3.  The  thoughts,  the  aspirations,  and  all  the  energies  of  im- 
mortal beings,  ought,  assuredly,  to  bear  the  impress  of  im- 
mortality. Whatever  grandeur  may  mark  the  conceptions  of 
a  mind  that  is  contented  with  a  mortal  and  earthly  range, 
whatever  achievements  of  heroism  and  magnanimity  may  shed 
almost  divine  luster  on  a  character  which  belongs  only  to  the 
empire  of  time,  they  sink  into  nothing  when  viewed  in  the 
light  of  eternity, — they  do  not  lift  the  soul  to  Heaven.  In 
their  motives  and  consequences,  they  have  no  connection  with 
an  unfading,  incorruptible  inheritance.  They  are  designed  for 
no  more  than  a  little  sphere,  and  the  admiration  of  a  world 
which  passeth  away. 


1.  Revere  thyself,  and  yet  thyself  despise. 
His  nature  no  man  can  o'er-rate,  and  none 


116  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Can  under-rate  his  merit.     Take  good  heed, 

Nor  there  be  modest  where  thou  shouldst  be  proud, — 

That  almost  universal  error  shun. 

How  just  our  pride,  when  we  behold  those  hights, — 

Not  those  ambition  paints  in  air,  but  those 

Eeason  points  out,  ardent  Virtue  gains, 

And  Angels  emulate, 

2.  In  empire  high,  or  in  proud  science  deep. 
Ye  born  of  earth,  on  what  can  you  confer 
With  half  the  dignity, — with  half  the  gain, — 
The  gust,  the  glow,  of  rational  delight, — 

As  on  this  theme  which  Angels  praise  and  share  ? 
Man's  fates  and  favors  are  a  theme  in  Heaven. 

3.  If  inextinguishable  thirst  in  man 

To  know  ;  how  rich,  how  full,  our  banquet  there  ! 
There,  not  the  moral  world  alone  unfolds; 
The  world  material,  lately  seen  in  shades, 
And  in  those  shades  by  fragments  only  seen, 
Unbroken  then,  illustrious  and  entire, 
Its  ample  sphere,  its  universal  frame. 
In  full  dimensions,  swells  to  the  survey, 
And  enters,  at  one  glance,  the  ravished  sight. 

4.  If  admiration  is  a  source  of  joy. 

What  transport  hence !  yet  this  the  least  in  Heaven. 

What  this  to  that  illustrious  robe  He  wears, 

Who  tossed  this  mass  of  wonders  from  His  hand, — 

A  specimen, — an  earnest  of  His  power  ? 

'Tis  to  that  glory,  whence  all  glory  flows, 

As  the  mead's  meanest  floweret  to  the  sun 

Which  gave  it  birth. 

5.  O  what  a  patrimony  this!     A  being 
Of  such  inherent  strength  and  majesty. 

Not  worlds  possessed  can  raise  it ;  Avorlds  destroyed 
Can't  injure;  which  holds  on  its  course, 
When  thine,  0  Nature!  ends,— too  blest  to  mourn 
Creation's  obsequies. — Young. 


FIFTH      BOOK.  117 

LESSON    XXIU 

Explanatory  Note. — 1.  The  Al'  oe  is  a  very  large  plant,  one  species 
of  which  is  a  native  of  America.  There  is  a  notion,  but  an  erroneous 
one,  that  it  does  not  bloom  until  it  is  a  hundred  years  old.  The  time  of 
its  blossoming  depends  on  the  rapidity  of  its  grovrth. 

ANTIDOTE    TO    DESPONDENCY. 

CARLOS  WILCOX. 

1.  WouLDST  thou  from  sorrow  find  a  sweet  relief? 

Or  is  thy  heart  oppressed  with  woes  untold  ? 
Balm  wouldst  thou  gather  for  corroding  grief? 

Pour  blessings  round  thee  like  a  shower  of  gold. 

'Tis  when  the  rose  is  wrapt  in  many  a  fold, 
Close  to  its  heart,  the  Avorm  is  wasting  there 

Its  life  and  beauty  ;  not  when,  all  unrolled, 
Leaf  after  leaf,  its  bosom  rich  and  fair. 
Breathes  freely  its  perfumes  throughout  the  ambient  air. 

2.  Wake,  thou  that  sleepest  in  enchanted  bowers, 

Lest  these  lost  years  should  haunt  thee  on  the  night, 
When  death  is  waiting  for  thy  numbered  hours, 

To  take  their  swift  and  everlasting  flight ; 

Wake,  ere  the  earth-born  charm  unnerve  thee  quite, 
And  be  thy  thoughts  to  work  divine  addressed  ; 

Do  something, — do  it  soon, — with  all  thy  might ; 
An  angel's  wing  would  droop,  if  long  at  rest. 
And  God  himself,  inactive,  were  no  longer  blest. 

3.  No  good  of  worth  sublime  will  Heaven  permit 

To  light  on  man  as  from  the  passing  air ; 
Tlie  lamp  of  genius,  though  by  nature  lit, 

If  not  protected,  pruned,  and  fed  with  care, 

Soon  dies,  or  runs  to  waste  with  fitful  glare ; 
And  learning  is  a  plant  that  spreads  and  towers 

Slow  as  Columbia's  aloe,'  proudly  rare. 
That,  'mid  gay  thousands,  with  the  suns  and  showers 
Of  half  a  century,  grows  alone  before  it  flowers. 

4.  Has  immortality  of  name  been  given 

To  them  that  idly  worship  hills  and  groves, 


118  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

And  burn  sweet  incense  to  the  queen  of  lieaven  ? 
(<)  Did  Newton  learn  from  fancy,  as  it  roves, 

To  measure  worlds,  and  follow  where  each  moves  ? 
Did  Howard  gain  renown  that  shall  not  cease. 

By  wanderings  wild,  that  nature's  pilgrim  loves  ? 
Did  Paul  gain  Heaven's  glory  and  its  peace, 
By  musing  o'er  the  bright  and  tranquil  isles  of  Greece  ? 

5.  Rouse  to  some  work  of  high  and  holy  love, 

And  thou  an  angel's  happiness  shalt  know, — 

Shalt  bless  the  earth  while  in  the  world  above ; 
The  good  begun  by  thee  shall  onward  flow 
In  many  a  branching  stream,  and  wider  grow  ; 

The  seed  that,  in  these  few  and  fleeting  hours, 
Thy  hands  unsparing  and  unwearied  sow, 

Shall  deck  thy  grave  with  amaranthine  flowers, 

And  yield  thee  fruits  divine  in  Heaven's  immortal  bowers. 


■  LESSON  xxnu 

WHAT  IS  PATRIOTISM? 


FISHER  AMES. 


The  wandering  mariner,  whose  eye  explores 

The  wealthiest  isles,  the  most  enchanting  shores, 

Views  not  a  realm  so  beautiful  and  fair, 

Nor  breathes  the  fragrance  of  a  purer  air ; 

In  every  clime,  the  magnet  of  his  soul, 

Touched  by  remembrance,  trembles,  to  that  pole. — Montgomery. 

1.  What  is  Patriotism  ?  Is  it  a  narrow  aff'ection  for  the 
spot  where  a  man  was  born?  Are  the  very  clods  where  we 
tread  entitled  to  this  ardent  preference  because  they  are 
greener  ?  No  ;  this  is  not  the  character  of  the  virtue ;  it 
soars  higher  for  its  object.  It  is  an  extended  self-love,  min- 
gling with  all  the  enjoyments  of  life,  and  twisting  itself  with 
the  minutest  filaments  of  the  heart.  It  is  thus  we  obey  the 
laws  of  society,  because  they  are  the  laws  of  virtue.  In  their 
authority  we  see,  not  the  array  of  force  and  terror,  but  the 
venerable  image  of  our  country's  honor.     Every  good  citizen 


FIFTH     BOOK.  119 

makes  that  honor  his  own,  and   cherishes  it  not  only  as  pre- 
cious, but  as  sacred. 

2.  He  is  willing  to  risk  his  life  in  its  defense,  and  is  con- 
scious that  he  gains  protection  while  he  gives  it.  For  what 
rights  of  a  citizen  will  be  deemed  inviolable,  when  a  state  re- 
nounces the  principles  that  constitute  their  security  ?  Or,  if 
his  life  should  not  be  invaded,  what  would  its  enjoyments  be 
in  a  country  odious  in  the  eyes  of  strangers,  and  dishonored  in 
his  own  ?  Could  he  look  with  affection  and  veneration  to  such 
a  country  as  his  parent  ?  The  sense  of  having  one  would  die 
within  him  ;  he  would  blush  for  his  patriotism,  if  he  retained 
any,  and  justly,  for  it  would  be  a  vice.  He  would  be  a  banished 
man  in  his  native  land. 


3.  Whence  does  this  love  of  our  country,  this  universal  pas. 
sion,  proceed  ?  Why  does  the  eye  ever  dwell  with  fondnesa 
upon  the  scenes  of  infant  life  ?  Why  do  we  breathe  with 
greater  joy  the  breath  of  our  youth  ?  Why  are  not  other 
soils  as  grateful,  and  other  heavens  as  gay  ?  Why  does  the 
soul  of  man  ever  cling  to  that  earth  where  it  first  knew  pleas- 
ure and  pain,  and,  under  the  rough  discipline  of  the  passions, 
was  roused  to  the  dignity  of  moral  life  ?  Is  it  only  that  our 
country  contains  our  kindred  and  our  friends  ?  And  is  it  no- 
thing but  a  name  for  our  social  affections  ? 

4.  It  can  not  be  this  ;  the  most  friendless  of  human  beings, 
Las  a  country  which  he  admires  and  extols,  and  which  he 
would,  in  the  same  circumstances,  prefer  to  all  others  under 
heaven.  Tempt  him  with  the  fairest  face  of  nature,  place  him 
by  living  waters  under  shadowy  trees  of  Lebanon,  open  to  his 
view  all  the  gorgeous  allurements  of  the  sunniest  climates,  he 
will  love  the  rocks  and  deserts  of  his  childhood  better  than 
all  these,  and  thou  canst  not  bribe  his  soul  to  forget  the  land 
of  his  nativity. — Sidney  Smith. 


6.       Breathes  there  a  man  with  soul  so  dead, 
Who  never  to  himself  hath  said  : — 
"  This  is  my  own,  my  native  land  1" 


120  SANDERS'    NEW    SERIES. 

Whose  heart  hath  ne'er  within  him  burned, 

As  home  his  footsteps  he  hath  turned 

From  wandering  on  a  foreign  strand  ? 

If  such  there  breathe,  go  mark  him  well ; 

For  him  no  minstrel  raptures  swell ; 

High  though  his  titles,  proud  his  name, 

Boundless  his  wealth  as  wish  can  claim ; 

Despite  those  titles,  power  and  pelf, 

The  wretch  concentered  all  in  self, 

Living,  shall  forfeit  all  renown. 

And,  doubly  dying,  shall  go  down 

To  the  vile  dust,  from  whence  he  sprung. 

Unwept,  unhonored,  and  unsung. — Sir  Walter  Scott. 


6.  The  scenes  of  my  childhood,  how  dear  to  my  heart ! 
They  steal  o'er  my  soul,  and  a  rapture  impart ; 
In  sweet  recollection  I  often  explore 

Those  valleys  and  bowers. 

Green  meadows  and  flowers, — 
I  gaze  on  their  charms  and  their  Maker  adore. 
O,  when  shall  I  visit  that  lovely  retreat. 
And  all  the  endearments  of  infancy  greet  ? — - 
V.  The  time-stricken  cottage — the  evergreen  tree 
That  waved  o'er  my  head  in  my  juvenile  glee  ; 
My  childhood  companions  that  livened  the  green, 

My  father,  my  mother. 

My  sister,  my  brother, 
And  the  countless  enchantments  of  life's  morning  scene. 
No  objects  on  earth  have  attractions  so  sweet. 
There  the  fondest,  the  tend'rest  remembrances  meet. 

8.  There's  not  a  green  spot  on  this  wide  peopled  earth, 
So  dear  to  the  heart  as  the  land  of  our  birth  ; 
'Tis  the  home  of  our  childhood  !  the  beautiful  spot. 
Which  memory  retains  when  all  else  is  forgot ; 

May  the  blessing  of  God 

Ever  hallow  the  sod, 
And  its  valleys  and  hills  by  brave  freemen  be  trod. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  121 

LESSON    XXIV* 
CREATION. 

REV.  THOMAS    FOX. 

1.  What  scenes  of  deep  and  tlirilling  interest,  must  Lave 
been  unfolded  to  angels  as  tliey  lingered  around  the  morning 
of  creation !  And  could  they  leave  their  lofty  habitation,  and 
commune  with  mortals,  with  what  delight  should  we  listen  to 
their  instructions, — with  what  pleasurable  emotions  should  wc 
gather  around  them  as  they' related  the  genesis  of  time, — as 
they  described  those  progressive  acts  of  the  great  Jehovau, 
when  He  called  this  universe  into  being ! 

2.  But,  though  this  privilege  is  denied  us — though  no  an- 
cient one, 

"Whose  hoary  locks  have  swept  the  feet  of  Deity," 

may  break  the  silence  that  encompasses  the  past,  yet  we  may 
turn  to  the  oracles  of  truth,  and  from  their  silent,  yet  respon- 
sive pages,  read,  in  miniature,  the  world's  history.  Here  we 
may  learn  that  "  the  things  which  are  seen,  were  not  made  of 
things  that  do  appear."  There  was  not  merely  a  remodeliKg 
of  previously  existing  matter,  but  a  creation.  God,  by  his  om- 
nific  word,  spake,  and  matter  from  nonentity  appeared. 

3.  What  exalted  ideas  of  the  Supreme  docs  this  suggest ! 
Who  else  can  create  ?  All  the  men  and  angels  in  the  universe 
could  not  produce  one  particle  of  matter.  How  sublimely 
grand  is  the  Almighty's  reference  to  this  fact,  when  address- 
ing astonished  Job  out  of  the  whirlwind ! 

"  Where  wast  thou  when 
I  laid  the  foundations  of  the  earth  ? 
Declare,  if  thou  hast  understanding. 
Who  hath  laid  the  measures  thereof,  if  thou  knowest  ? 
Or  who  hath  stretched  the  line  upon  it  ? 
Whereupon  are  the  foundations  thereof  fastened  ? 
Or  who  laid  the  corner-stone  thereofj 
When  the  morning  stars  sang  together, 
And  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy  ?" 

4.  :^ut  matter  was  produced  only  in  its  elementary  state. 
Other  attributes  of  Jehovah,  beside  omnipotence,  were  to  be 
exhibited   in   the  workmanship  of  his  hands.     Wisdom  and 

0 


122  SANDERS'     KEW    SERIES. 

goodness  were  to  be  blended  with  power  in  this  visible  display 
of  his  glory.  Chaos  first  appeared,  or,  in  the  language  of  one 
of  the  heathen  poets,  among  whom  traces  of  Biblical  truth  are 
frequently  found, 

"  One  was  the  face  of  nature,  if  a  face; 
Rather  a  rude  and  indigested  mass  ; 
A  lifeless  lump,  unfashioned  and  unframed, 
Of  jarring  seeds,  and  justly  chaos  named." 

Soon  the  Spirit  moved  upon  the  inert  mass,  and  gave  to  it  vi- 
tality,— gave  to  it,  if  we  may  use  the  expression,  mineral  life. 
Probably  this  was  the  commencement  of  motion,  that  mysteri- 
ous something,  whicli  equally  proves  the  existence  and  power 
of  a  great  First  Cause. 

5.  Again,  the  fiat  went  forth,  and  the  principle  of  light  and 
of  heat,  was  ushered  into  existence.  And  here,  as  elsewhere, 
we  perceive  the  correspondence  between  the  sacred  record  and 
true  philosophy.  Revelation  informs  us  that  light  existed 
before  the  sun  took  his  place  in  the  firmament ;  and  that  this 
luminary  was  subsequently  appointed  merely  as  a  "  light- 
bearer." 

6.  How  exactly  does  this  accord  with  matter  of  fact!  Phi- 
losophy teaches  us  that  there  is  latent  light  pervading  all  sub- 
stances, and  that  the  sun  is  in  itself  a  dark  body,  surrounded 
by  a  luminous  appendage,  making  it  emphatically  a  light-bearer 
to  surrounding  worlds.  Earth  now  received  its  diurnal  motion, 
by  which  day  and  night  succeed  each  other.  But  how  won- 
derful is  this  motion !  Who  can  account  for  it  ?  Have  we 
not  here  a  striking  display  of  the  continued  and  pervading  en- 
ergy of  the  great  I  Am  ? 

v.  The  work  went  on.  Ocean's  capacious  bed  was  formed, 
and  filled  with  the  yielding  wave.  Rills,  and  brooks,  and  riv- 
ers, commenced  their  meandering  courses,  and  murmured  forth 
the  praise  of  Him  who  bade  them  flow.  While  the  dry  land 
which  now  peered  in  majesty  above  the  watery  flood,  gradu- 
ally acquired  a  suitable  consistency  for  its  destined  use.  The 
surrounding  firmament,  clarified  from  vapors  and  exhalations, 
became  a  proper  medium  for  the  transmissiou  of  light,  and  for 


Firrn    book.  123 

the  operation  of  those  great  laws,  by  which  the  machinery  of 
the  material  universe  Avas  to  be  governed. 

8.  As  yet  no  vegetation  appeared — no  trees,  nor  plants,  nor 
flowers,  adorned  the  hills,  or  decked  the  plains.  Another  act 
was  now  unfolded  in  the  mighty  drama — another  kingdom 
was  added  to  creation's  domain — another  step  was  taken  in 
the  ascending  scale  of  Jehovah's  works.  At  the  Almighty's 
bidding,  grass,  and  herbs,  and  trees,  sprang  into  being,  and 
robed  with  more  than  vestal  loveliness  the  virmn  world.  What 
scenes  of  beauty  were  now  revealed  to  the  heavenly  visitants, 
as  they  flitted  through  the  amaranthine  bowers,  or  perched  on 
the  life-imparting  trees  of  Eden  ! 

9.  But  still  the  work  was  incomplete ;  another  department 
was  requisite  to  finish  the  scheme.  Amid  all  this  variegated 
fragrance,  and  grandeur,  and  beauty,  there  was  none  to  enjoy 
— none  to  adore.  Earth  was  not  the  home  of  Anofels:  an- 
other  and  a  higher  form  of  hfe  was  now  wakened  into  being. 
The  seas  were  filled  with  sportive  tribes  of  delighted  exist- 
ences ;  the  groves  were  vocal  with  richly  plumed  songsters, 
while  the  forests  and  valleys  teemed  with  animated  life. 

10.  Still  the  climax  was  wanting, — an  intelligent  beino-  to 
govern  and  to  adore,  as  well  as  to  enjoy.  To  summon  such  a 
being  into  existence,  Jehovah's  mandate  went  forth  : — "  Let  us 
make  man  in  our  image,  after  our  likeness."  This  compound 
being,  composed  of  matter  and  spirit,  wondrously  united,  was 
the  connecting  link  between  earth  and  heaven — between  the 
material  and  spiritual  world. 

11.  His  very  nature  designed  him  for  higher  enjoyments  and 
nobler  employments  than  earth  could  aff"ord.  It  proved  him  de- 
signed for  the  companionship  of  angels,  and  of  God.  Man  stood 
forth  at  the  head  of  creation,  as  God's  vicegerent  upon  earth, 
"  made  a  little  lower  than  the  angels,  and  crowned  with  glory 
and  honor."  God  surveyed  the  finished  work,  and  pronounced 
it — VERY  GOOD.  Every  part  was  appropriate,  and  adapted  to 
the  end,  for  which  it  was  designed ;  and  the  whole  presented 
one  harmonious  and  beautiful  unity,  speaking  forth  the  invis- 
ible glories  and  infinite  perfections  of  the  great  Original. 


124  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON    XXY* 

Direction. — The  former  part  of  each  verse  m  the  following  poetry, 
should  be  read  or  spokeu  in  a  low  tone  of  voice,  denoting  majesty  and 
power ;  the  latter  part,  in  a  lively,  animated  style. 

THE   DAYS   OP   CREATION. 

From  the  German  0/ Krummacheb. 

1.  ('i)  All  dead  and  silent  was  the  earth, 

In  deepest  night  it  lay, 
The  Eternal  spoke  Creation's  word, 
And  called  to  being — Day ! 
(=^         It  streamed  from  on  high, 

All  reddening  and  bright. 
And  angels'  songs  welcomed 
The  new-born  light. 

2.  God  spake, — the  murmuring  waters  fled, — 

They  left  their  deep  repose ; 
Wide  over-arching  heaven's  blue  vault 
The  firmament  arose ! 
Now  sparkles  above 

Heaven's  glorious  blue, — 
It  sends  to  the  earth 
The  light  and  the  dew. 

3.  God  spake, — He  bade  the  waves  divide, — 

The  earth  uprears  her  head ; 
From  hill,  from  rock,  the  gushing  streams 
In  bubbling  torrents  spread ! 
The  earth  rested  quiet, 

And  poised  in  the  air. 
In  heaven's  blue  bosom. 
Lay  naked  and  bare. 

4.  God  spake, — the  hills  and  plains  put  on 

Their  robe  of  freshest  green  ; 

Dark  forests  in  the  valleys  wave. 

And  budding  trees  are  seen ! 


FIFTH      BOOK.  125 

The  word  of  his  breath, 

Clothes  forests  with  leaves, — ■ 
The  high  gift  of  beauty 
The  spring-tide  receives. 

5.  God  spake, — and  on  the  new  dressed  earth, 

Soft  smiles  the  glowing  sun  ; 
Then  full  of  joy  he  sprung  aloft, 
His  heavenly  course  to  run ! 
Loud  shouted  the  stars. 

As  they  shone  in  the  sky ; 
The  moon  with  mild  aspect, 
Ascended  on  high. 

6.  God  spake, — the  waters  teem  with  life, 

The  tenants  of  the  floods ; 
The  many-colored  winged  birds 
Dart  quickly  through  the  woods ! 
High  rushes  the  eagle 

On  fiery  wings, — 
Low  hid  in  the  valley. 
The  nightingale  sings. 

1.  God  spake, — He  looked  on  earth  and  heaven 

With  mild  and  gracious  eye ; 
In  His  own  image  man  He  made, 
And  gave  him  dignity. 
He  springs  from  the  dust. 
The  lord  of  the  earth, — 
The  chorus  of  heaven 
Exult  at  his  birth  ! 

8.  And  now  creation's  Avork  was  ended, 

Man  raised  his  head — he  spoke  ; 
The  day  of  rest  by  God  ordained. 
The  Sabbath  morning  broke. 


('o)  "  Let  there  be  light  /"  proclaimed  the  Almighty  Lord- 
Astonished  Chaos  heard  the  potent  word  ; 


126  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Through  all  its  realms  the  kindling  ether  runs, 
(=)    And  the  mass  starts  into  a  million  suns. 

Earths,  round  each  sun,  in  quick  explosions  burst, 
And  second  planets  issue  from  the  first ; 
Bend,  as  they  journey,  with  projectile  force, 
In  bright  ellipses  their  reluctant  course. 
Orbs  wheel  in  orbs ;  round  centers — centers  roll, 
And  form,  self-balanced,  one  revolving  whole. 
(i)  Onward  they  move  amid  their  bright  abode, 

Space  without  bounds, — the  bosom  of  their  God. 

2,  Roll  on,  ye  stars  !  exult  in  youthful  prime, — 

Mark  with  bright  curves  the  printless  steps  of  Time ; 
Near  and  more  near  your  beamy  cars  approach, 
And  lessening  orbs  on  lessening  orbs  encroach  ; 
Flowers  of  the  sky  !  ye,  too,  to  age  must  yield. 
Frail  as  your  silken  sisters  of  the  field ! 

3.  Star  after  star  from  heaven's  high  arch  shall  rush, 
Suns  sink  on  suns,  and  systems — systems  crush  : 
Headlong,  extinct,  to  one  dark  center  fall. 

And  death,  and  night,  and  chaos,  mingle  all ! 
Till  o'er  the  wreck,  emerging  from  the  storm. 
Immortal  nature  lifts  her  changeful  form. 
Mounts  from  her  funeral  pyre  on  wings  of  flame, 
And  soars  and  shines,  another  and  the  same. 

Darwin. 


LESSON  XXVU 

Explanatory  Note. — Ex  cel'  si  or  is  a  Latin  term  which  signifies  mor« 
lofty,  HIGHER.     It  is  adopted  as  the  motto  of  the  State  of  New  York. 

THE    EDUCATIONAL    POLICY    OF   NEW   YORK. 

HORACE  MANN. 

1.  Yast  as  are  the  interests  of  the  Empire  State, — wn'th  a 
population  approaching  to  that  of  the  whole  United  Colonies, 
at  the  time  they  acheived  their  independence,  and  a  valuation, 
probably  exceeding  that  of  the  whole  country  during  the  Rev- 


FIFTH     BOOK.  l27 

olutionary  struggle, — with  a  soil  fertile  in  vegetable,  and 
stored  witli  mineral  productions, — with  a  splendid  system  of 
internal  improvements,  yielding  its  millions  of  direct  revenue 
to  the  State,  yet,  indirectly,  a  hundred  fold  more  valuable  to 
the  citizens  from  the  means  which  it  furnishes  for  universal 
competence  and  comfort, — with  an  extent  of  territory,  almost 
equal  to  that  of  England, — occupying  a  central  and  command- 
ing position,  by  which  it  is  open  to  the  ocean  on  one  side,  and 
connected  on  all  otliers  with  immense  regions,  filled  with  in- 
dustrious and  populous  communities,  so  that  a  great  part  of 
the  commerce  of  this  western  world,  passes  through  its  gates, 
and  pays  its  tribute, — yet  in  the  midst  of  these  vast  and  va- 
ried interests,  its  true  interest — the  Education  of  its  people, 
transcends  them  all. 

2.  For,  to  what  purpose  is  there  a  combination  of  all  these 
constituents  of  greatness,  which  make  it  truly  an  Empire 
State ; — of  what  avail  is  its  territorial  extent,  measured,  as  it 
is,  by  degrees  of  latitude  and  longitude  upon  the  earth's  sur- 
face ; — why  are  its  great  thoroughfares  and  cities  piled  and 
heaped  high  with  accumulated  riches ; — to  what  end  does 
every  inflowing  tide  pour  wealth  upon  its  shores ; — if,  amidst 
all  these  elements  of  worldly  power,  the  mind  of  man  have  not 
an  over-mastering  power,  if  the  intellect  and  morals  do  not 
rise  above  them,  and  predominate,  and  establish  a  supremacy 
over  them,  and  convert  them  from  gratifications  of  appetite, 
passions,  and  pride,  into  instruments  of  mental  and  spiritual 
well-being  ? 

3.  To  devote  worldly  and  material  resources  to  intellectual 
and  moral  improvement ;  to  change  corporeal  riches  into  mental 
treasures,  is  to  transmute  the  dull,  cold,  perishable  things  of 
earth  and  time  into  celestial  and  immortal  capacities  — as,  by 
the  mysterious  processes  of  nature,  the  dark  mold  of  the  valley 
is  turned  into  flowers  and  fruits.  "  Excelsior"  is  the  beauti- 
ful motto  which  that  great  State  has  chosen.  Let  her  wisely 
fulfill  that  noble  idea,  by  striving,  through  the  means  of  an 
enlarged  and  thorough  education  of  her  people,  to  rise  higher 
and  HIGHER  in  the  endless  scale  of  good. 


128  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON  XXVIU 

Note. — The  following  beautiful  poem  is  considered  one  of  the  gems  of 
the  English  language.  Its  symbolical  meaning  will  be  at  once  perceived. 
Under  the  disguise  of  an  Alpine  traveler,  it  represents  the  incentives,  the 
straggles,  and  the  fate  of  genius.  It  depicts  with  vivid  power,  the  youthful 
and  ardent  aspirant  in  his  progress  up  the  dangerous  and  dizzy  hights  of 
fame,  leaving  behind  him  all  the  honors  and  riches  of  the  world,  and  intent 
only  on  the  object  of  his  pursuit  far  onward  and  upward. 

EXCELSIOR,  OR  THE  YOUTHFUL  ASPIRANT. 

H.   W.    LONGFELLOW. 

1.  (o)  The  shades  of  night  were  falling  fast, 

As  through  an  Alpine  village  passed 
A  youth  who  bore,  'mid  snow  and  ice, 
A  banner  with  the  strange  device, 
Excelsior  ! 

2.  His  brow  was  sad  ;  his  eyes  beneath 
Flashed  like  a  falchion  from  its  sheath, 
And  like  a  silver  clarion  rung 

The  accents  of  that  unknown  tongue. 
Excelsior  ! 

3.  In  happy  homes  he  saw  the  light 

Of  household  fires  gleam  warm  and  bright ; 
Above,  the  spectral  glaciers  shone, 
And  from  his  lips  escaped  a  groan. 
Excelsior  ! 

4.  "  Try  not  the  Pass  !"  the  old  man  said, 
"  Dark  lowers  the  tempest  overhead  ; 
The  roaring  torrent  is  deep  and  wide ;" 
And  loud  that  clarion  voice  replied, 

Excelsior  ! 

5.  "  Beware  the  pine-tree's  withered  branch  ! 
Beware  the  awful  avalanche  !" 

This  was  the  peasant's  last  good-night ; 
A  voice  replied,  far  up  the  hight, 
Excelsior  ! 


FIFTH     BOOK.  129 

6.  At  break  of  day,  as  heavenward 
The  pious  monks  of  St.  Bernard 
Uttered  the  oft-repeated  prayer, 

A  voice  cried  through  the  startled  air, 
Excelsior  ! 

7.  A  traveler,  by  the  faithful  hound, 
Half  buried  in  the  snow  was  found, 
Still  grasping  in  his  hand  of  ice 
That  banner  with  the  strange  device. 

Excelsior  1 

8.  There  in  the  twilight  cold  and  gray, 
Lifeless,  but  beautiful,  he  lay, 

And  from  the  sky  serene  and  far, 
A  voice  fell,  like  a  falling  star. 
Excelsior  ! 


« »  ♦  « > 


ASPIRATIONS    OP    THE    HEAYEN-BORN    SPIRIT. 

MRS.   HEMANa 

1.  When  the  young  Eagle  with  exulting  eye. 
Has  learned  to  dare  the  splendor  of  the  sky, 
And  leave  the  Alps  beneath  him  in  his  course. 
To  bathe  his  crest  in  morn's  empyreal  source. 
Will  his  free  wing,  from  that  majestic  hight, 
Descend  to  follow  some  wild  meteor's  light. 
Which,  far  below,  with  evanescent  fire, 
Shines  to  elude,  and  dazzles  to  expire  ? 

2.  No ;  still  through  clouds  he  wings  his  upward  way, 
And  proudly  claims  his  heritage  of  day ! 

And  shall  the  spirit,  on  whose  ardent  gaze 
The  day-spring  from  on  high  hath  poured  its  blaze, 
Turn  from  that  pure  effulgence,  to  the  beam 
"  Of  earth-born  light,  that  sheds  a  treacherous  gleam, 
Luring  the  wanderer,  from  the  star  of  faith. 
To  the  deep  valley  of  the  shades  of  death  ? 
What  bright  exchange,  what  treasure  shall  be  given, 
For  the  high  birth-right  of  its  hope  in  Heaven  ? 
6* 


130  SANDEES'      NEW      SERIES. 

LESSON  xxvnu 

Explanatory  Note. — After  the  framing  of  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States  by  the  convention  of  delegates,  it  required  the  separat  e 
action  of  the  respective  States  to  ratify  it.  The  following  is  an  extract 
from  a  speech  delivered  in  the  Convention  of  Virginia,  June  6,  1788,  on 
the  expediency  of  its  adoption. 

THE   UNION    OF   THE    STATES. 

EDMUND   RANDOLPH. 

1.  I  HAVE  labored  for  tbe  continuance  of  the  union — the 
rock  of  our  salvation.  I  believe  that  as  sure  as  there  is  a  God 
in  Heaven,  our  safety,  our  political  happiness,  and  existence, 
depend  on  the  "  Union  of  thk  States  ;"  and  that,  without 
this  union,  the  people  of  this  and  other  States,  will  undergo 
the  unspeakable  calamities  which  discord,  faction,  turbulence, 
war,  and  bloodshed,  have  produced  in  other  countries.  The 
American  spirit  ought  to  be  mixed  with  American  pride — 
pride  to  see  the  union  magnificently  triumph. 

2.  Let  it  not  be  recorded  of  Americans,  that,  after  having 
performed  the  most  gallant  exploits,  after  having  overcome 
the  most  astonishing  difficulties,  and  after  having  gained  the 
admiration  of  the  world  by  their  incomparable  valor  and  pol- 
icy, they  lost  their  acquired  reputation, — their  national  conse- 
quence and  happiness,  by  their  own  indiscretion. 

3.  Let  no  future  historian  inform  posterity  that  they  wanted 
wisdom  and  virtue  to  concur  in  any  regular,  efficient  govern- 
ment. Should  any  writer,  doomed  to  so  disagreeable  a  task, 
feel  the  indignation  of  an  honest  historian,  he  would  repre- 
hend and  recriminate  our  folly  with  equal  severity  and  justice. 

4.  Catch  the  present  moment;  seize  it  with  avidity  and 
eagerness ;  for  it  may  be  lost,  never  to  be  regained.  If  the 
union  be  now  lost,  I  fear  it  will  remain  so  forever.  When  I 
maturely  weigh  the  advantages  of  the  union,  and  the  dread- 
ful consequences  of  its  dissolution ;  when  I  see  safety  on  my 
right,  and  destruction  on  my  left ;  when  I  behold  respectabil- 
ity and  happiness  acquired  by  the  one,  but  annihilated  by  the 
other,  I  can  not  hesitate  to  decide  in  favor  of  the  Union. 


FIFTH    BOOK.  131 

THE    CONSTITUTION. 

W.    C.   BETANT. 

1.  Great  were  the  hearts,  and  strong  the  minds 

Of  those  who  framed,  in  high  debate, 
The  immortal  league*  of  love,  that  binds 
Our  fair  broad  Empire,  State  with  State. 

2.  And  deep  the  gladness  of  the  hour, 

"When,  as  tLe  auspicious  task  was  done, 
In  solemn  trust,  the  sword  of  power, 
Was  given  to  glory's  unspoiled  son.f 

3.  That  noble  race  is  gone ;  the  suns 

Of  sixty  years  have  risen  and  set ; 
But  the  bright  links,  those  chosen  ones 
So  strongly  forged,  are  brighter  yet. 

4.  Wide,  as  our  own  free  race  increase — 

Wide  shall  extend  the  elastic  chain. 
And  bind  in  everlasting  peace, 

State  after  State, — a  mighty  train. 


LESSON    XXIX* 


LIBERTY    AND    UNION,    ONE    AND    INSEPARABLE. 

WEBSTER. 

1.  I  CAN  not  persuade  myself  to  relinquish  this  subject, 
without  expressing  my  deep  conviction,  that,  since  it  respects 
nothing  less  than  "  The  Union  of  the  States,"  it  is  of  most 
vital  and  essential  importance  to  the  public  happiness.  I  pro- 
fess, sir,  in  my  career  hitherto,  to  have  kept  steadily  in  view 
the  prosperity  and  honor  of  the  whole  country,  and  the  pres- 
ervation of  our  federal  union.  It  is  to  that  union  we  owe  our 
safety  at  home,  and  our  consideration  and  dignity  abroad.  It 
is  to  that  union  that  we  are  chiefly  indebted  for  whatever 
makes  us  most  proud  of  our  country. 

*  The  Constitution'  of  the  United  States. 

■f  "Washington,  who  was  first  intrusted  with  the  ofiBce  of  Chief  Magis- 
trate. 


182  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

2.  That  union  we  readied  only  by  the  discipline  of  our  vir- 
tues in  the  severe  school  of  adversity.  It  had  its  origin  in 
the  necessities  of  disordered  finance,  prostrate  commerce,  and 
ruined  credit.  Under  its  benign  influences,  these  great  inter- 
ests immediately  awoke,  as  from  the  dead,  and  sprang  forth 
with  newness  of  life. 

3.  Every  year  of  its  duration  has  teemed  with  fresh  proofs 
of  its  utility  and  its  blessings ;  and,  altnough  our  territory  has 
stretched  out  wider  and  wider,  and  our  population  spread 
farther  and  farther,  they  have  not  outrun  its  protection  or  its 
benefits.  It  has  been  to  us  a  copious  fountain  of  national, 
social,  and  personal  happiness. 

4.  I  have  not  allowed  myself  to  look  beyond  the  union,  to 
see  what  might  lie  hidden  in  the  dark  recess  behind.  I  have 
not  coolly  weighed  the  chances  of  preserving  liberty,  when  the 
bonds  that  unite  us  together,  shall  be  broken  asunder.  I  have 
not  accustomed  myself  to  hang  over  the  precipice  of  disunion; 
to  see  whether,  with  my  short  sight,  I  can  fathom  the  depth 
of  the  abyss  below ;  nor  could  I  regard  him  as  a  safe  coun- 
selor in  the  afiairs  of  this  government,  whose  thoughts  should 
be  mainly  bent  on  considering,  not  how  the  union  should  be 
best  preserved,  but  how  tolerable  might  be  the  condition  of 
the  people  when  it  shall  be  broken  up  and  destroyed. 

5.  While  the  union  lasts,  we  have  high,  exciting,  gratifying 
prospects  spread  out  before  us,  for  us  and  our  children.  Be- 
yond that,  I  seek  not  to  penetrate  the  vail.  God  grant  that, 
in  my  day,  at  least,  that  curtain  may  not  rise, — that  on  my  vis- 
ion never  may  be  opened  what  lies  behind. 

6.  When  my  eyes  shall  be  turned  to  behold,  for  the  last 
time,  the  sun  in  heaven,  may  I  not  see  him  shining  on  the 
broken  and  dishonored  fragments  of  a  once  glorious  union, — . 
on  States  dissevered,  discordant,  belligerent, — on  a  land  rent 
with  civil  feuds,  or  drenched,  it  may  be,  in  fraternal  blood  ! 
Let  their  last  feeble  and  lingering  glance  rather  behold  the 
gorgeous  ensign  of  the  republic,  now  known  and  honored 
throughout  the  earth,  still  full  high  advanced,  its  arms  and 
trophies  streaming  in  their  original  luster,  not  a  stripe  erased 


FIFTH    BOOK.  133 

or  polluted,  nor  a  single  star  obscured,  bearing  for  its  motto, 
no  such  miserable  interrogatory  as,  "  What  is  all  this  worth  P 
nor  those  other  words  of  delusion  and  folly,  "  Liberty  Jirst, 
and  Union  afterward  ;^^  (<)  but  everywhere,  spread  all  over  in 
characters  of  living  light,  blazing  on  all  its  ample  folds,  as  they 
float  over  the  sea  and  over  the  land,  and  in  every  wind  under 
the  whole  heavens,  that  other  sentiment,  dear  to  every  true 
American   heart, — Liberty  and  Union,  now  and   forever, 

ONE    AND    INSEPARABLE ! 


«»  ♦  «♦ 


LESSON  XXX* 

Explanatory  Note. — The  following  thrilling  incident,  'though  an  an- 
cient theme,  happily  illustrates  the  power  of  true  friendship.  Dionysius 
was  a  cruel  tyrant  of  Sicily.  Among  other  acts,  he  caused  an  immense 
cave,  250  feet  in  length,  to  be  constructed  in  a  rock,  in  the  form  of  the 
human  ear,  by  which  all  the  sounds  from  without  were  directed  to  a  com- 
mon center  which  communicated  to  an  adjoining  apartment,  where  he 
spent  the  greater  part  of  his  time  to  hear  whatever  might  be  said  by  those 
whom  his  suspicions  had  cruelly  confined  in  rooms  above.  Lest  the  art- 
ists, employed  in  making  it,  should  reveal  the  design  of  its  construction, 
he  caused  them  to  be  put  to  death, 

DAMON   AND   PYTHIAS,-    OR,    TRUE   FRIENDSHIP. 

WM.    PETER. 

1,  (_!.)  "  Here,  guards !"  pale  with  fear,  Dionysius  cries, 
"  Here,  guards,  yon  intruder  arrest ! 
'Tis  Damon, — but  ha  !  speak,  what  means  this  disguise  ? 
And  the  dagger  which  gleams  in  thy  vest  ?" 
(  )  "  'Twas  to  free,"  says  the  youth,  "  this  dear  land  from  its 
chains  1"  [pains." 

"  Free  the  land !  wretched  fool,  thou  shalt  die  for  thy 

2.  "  I  am  ready  to  die, — I  ask  not  to  live, — 

Yet  three  days  of  respite,  perhaps, thou  may'st  give; 

For,  to-morrow  my  sister  will  wed. 
And  'twould  damp  all  her  joy,  were  her  brother  not  there; 
Then  lot  me,  I  pray,  to  her  nuptials  repair. 

While  a  friend  remains  here  in  my  stead." 


134  SANDEKS'     NEW     SERIES. 

3.  With  a  sneer  on  tis  brow,  and  a  curse  in  his  breast: 

"  Thou  shalt  have,"  cries  the  tyrant,  "  shalt  have  thy  re- 
To  thy  sister  repair,  and  her  nuptials  attend,       [quest ; 
Enjoy  thy  three  days  ;  but  mark  well  what  I  say, — 
Return  on  the  third ;  if,  beyond  that  fixed  day, 
There  be  but  one  hour's,  but  one  moment's  delay, 
That  delay  shall  be  death  to  thy  friend !" 

4.  Then  to  Pythias  he  went ;  and  he  told  him  his  case  ; 
That  true  friend  answered  not ;  but,  with  instant  embrace, 

Consenting,  rushed  forth  to  be  bound  in  his  room ; 
And  now,  as  if  winged  with  new  life  from  above. 
To  his  sister  he  flew,  did  his  errand  of  love, 
And,  ere  a  third  morning  had  brightened  the  grove, 

Was  returning  with  joy  to  his  doom. 

5        But  the  heavens  interpose, 

Stern  the  tempest  arose. 
And,  when  the  poor  pilgrim  arrived  at  the  shore, 

SwoU'n  to  torrents,  the  rills 

Rushed  in  foam  from  the  hills, 
And  crash  went  the  bridge  in  the  whirlpool's  wild  roar. 

6.  Wildly  gazing,  despaii'ing.  half  frenzied  he  stood; 
Dark,  dark  were  the  skies,  and  dark  was  the  flood, 

And  still  darker  his  lorn  heart's  emotion  ; 
And  he  shouted  for  aid,  but  no  aid  was  at  hand, 
No  boat  ventured  forth  from  the  surf-ridden  strand, 
And  the  waves  sprang,  like  floods,  o'er  the  lessening  land, 

And  the  stream  was  becoming  an  ocean. 

7.  Now  with  knees  low  to  earth,  and  with  hands  to  the  skies; 
"  Still  the  storm,  God  of  might,  God  of  mercy  !"  he  cries; 

"  O,  hush  with  Thy  breath  this  loud  sea  ! 
The  hours  hurry  by, — the  sun  glows  on  high ; 
And  should  he  go  down,  and  I  reach  not  yon  town, 

My  friend — he  must  perish  for  me  !" 

8.  Yet  the  wrath  of  the  torrent  still  went  on  increasing. 
And  waves  upon  waves  still  dissolved  without  ceasing, 

And  hour  after  hour  hurried  on ; 


FIFTH     BOOK.  135 

Then,  by  anguish  impelled,  hope  and  fear  alike  o'er, 
He,  reckless,  rushed  into  the  water's  deep  roar ; 
Rose, — sunk, — struggled  on, — till,  at  length,  the  wished 
shore, — 
Thanks  to  Heaven's  outstretched  hand, — it  is  won ! 

9.  But  new  perils  await  him  ;  scarce  'scaped  from  the  flood, 

And  intent  on  redeeming  each  moment's  delay. 
As  onward  he  sped,  lo !  from  out  a  dark  wood, 

A  band  of  fierce  robbers  encompassed  his  way. 
"What   would    ye?"    he    cried,   "save   my    life,  I    have 

naught ;" 
"  Nay,  that  is  the  king's." — Then  swift  having  caught 
A  club  from  the  nearest,  and  swinging  it  round 
With  might  more  than  man's,  he  laid  three  on  the  ground, 

AVhile  the  rest  hurried  off  in  dismay. 

10.  But  the  noon's  scorching  flame 

Soon  shoots  through  his  frame,  [sigli) — 

And  he  turns,   faint    and   way-worn,  to  Heaven  with  a 

"  From  the  flood  and  the  foe, 

Thou'st  redeemed  me,  and  oh  ! 
Thus,  by  thirst  overcome,  must  I  effortless  lie, 
And  leave  him,  the  beloved  of  my  bosom, — to  die  ?" 

11.  Scarce  uttered  the  word, 
When,  startled,  he  heard 

Purling  sounds,  sweet  as  silver's,  fall  fresh  on  his  ear ; 

And  lo  !  a  small  rill 

Trickled  down  from  the  hill ! 
He  heard,  and  he  saw,  and,  with  joy  drawing  near, 
Laved  his  limbs,  slaked  his  thirst,  and  renewed  his  career. 

12.  And  now  the  sun's  beams  through  the  deep  boughs  are 

glowing,  [ing. 

And  rock,  tree,  and  mountain,  their  shadows  are  throw- 
Huge  and  grim,  o'er  the  meadow's  bright  bloom  ; 
And  two  travelers  are  seen  coming  forth  on  their  way, 
And  just  as  they  pass,  he  hears  one  of  them  say  : — 
"  'Tis  the  hour  that  was  fixed  for  his  doom !" 


136  SANDERS'     KEW     SERIES. 

13.  Still,  anguish  gives  strength  to  his  wavering  flight; 
On  he  speeds ;  and  lo !  now  in  eve's  reddening  light 

The  domes  of  far  Syracuse  blend  ; 
There  Philostratus  meets  him,  (a  servant  grown  gray 
In  his  house,)  crying,  (°=)  "  Back !  not  a  moment's  de- 
No  cares  can  avail  for  thy  friend.  [lay ; 

1 4.  "  No ;  nothing  can  save  his  dear  head  from  the  tomb  ; 

So,  think  of  preserving  thy  own. 
Myself,  I  beheld  him  led  forth  to  his  doom ; 

Ere  this  his  brave  spirit  has  flown ! 
With  confident  soul  he  stood,  hour  after  hour, 

Thy  return  never  doubting  to  see ; 
No  sneers  of  the  tyrant  that  faith  could  o'erpower, 

Or  shake  his  assurance  in  thee !" 

15.  "  And  is  it  too  late  ?  and  can  not  I  save 

His  dear  life  ?  then,  at  least,  let  me  share  in  his  grave. 
Yes ;  death  shall  unite  us !  no  tyrant  shall  say, 
That  friend  to  his  friend  proved  untrue  ;  he  may  slay,— 
May  torture, — may  mock  at  all  mercy  and  ruth  ; 
But  ne'er  shall  he  doubt  of  our  friendship  and  truth." 

16.  'Tis  sunset ;  and  Damon  arrives  at  the  gate, 

Sees  the  scaff'old  and  multitudes  gazing  below ; 
Already  the  victim  is  bared  for  his  fate. 

Already  the  deathsman  stands  armed  for  the  blow ; 
When  hark !  a  wild  voice  which  is  echoed  around, 
(°°)  "  Stay ! — 'tis  I, — it  is  Damon,  for  whom  he  was  bound !'' 

17.  And  now  they  sink  in  each  other's  embrace, 

And  are  weeping  for  joy  and  despair ; 
Not  a  soul,  among  thousands,  but  melts  at  their  case. 

Which  swift  to  the  monarch  they  bear ; 
Even  he,  too,  is  moved, — feels  for  once  as  he  ought, 
And   commands  that  they  both  to  his  throne  shall   be 
brought. 

18.  Then,  alternately  gazing  on  each  gallant  youth. 

With  looks  of  awe,  wonder,  and  shame  ; 


FIFTH     BOOK.  137 

"  Ye  have  conquered  !"  he  cries,  "  yes,  I  see  now  that 
That  friendship  is  not  a  mere  name.  [truth. 

Go;  you're  free;  but,  while  life's  dearest  blessings  you 
prove, 
Let  one  prayer  of  your  monarch  be  heard, 
That,  his  past  sins  forgot,  in  this  union  of  love, 
And  of  virtue,  you  make  him  the  third." 


«t  ♦  »♦ 


LESSON  XXXU 

CHAEACTER   AND   CONDITION  OF  THE  "WESTERN   INDIANS. 

GEORGE  CATLIN. 

1.  Impressions  of  the  most  vivid  kind,  are  rapidly  and  in- 
delibly made  by  the  fleeting  incidents  of  savage  life ;  and,  for 
the  mind  that  can  contemplate  them  with  pleasure,  they  afford 
abundant  materials  for  its  entertainment.  The  mind,  suscep- 
tible of  such  impressions,  catches  volumes  of  incidents  which 
are  easy  to  write ;  it  is  but  to  unfold  a  web  which  the  fascina- 
tions of  this  country  and  its  allurements,  have  spun  over  the 
soul ;  it  is  but  to  paint  the  splendid  panorama  of  a  world  en- 
tirely different  from  any  thing  seen  or  painted  before,  with  its 
thousands  of  miles,  and  tens  of  thousands  of  grassy  hills  and 
dales,  where  naught  but  silence  reigns,  and  where  the  soul  of 
a  contemplative  mold  is  seemingly  lifted  up  to  its  Creator. 

2.  What  man  ever  ascended  to  the  pinnacle  of  one  of  Mis- 
souri's green- carpeted  bluffs,  a  thousand  miles  severed  from 
his  own  familiar  land,  and  giddily  gazed  over  the  interminable 
and  boundless  ocean  of  grass-covered  hills  and  valleys  which 
lie  beneath  him,  where  the  gloom  of  silence  is  complete,  where 
not  even  the  voice  of  the  sparrow  or  cricket  is  heard,  without 
feeling  a  sweet  melancholy  come  over  him,  which  seemed  to 
drown  his  sense  of  every  thing  beneath  Kim  ? 

3.  In  traversing  the  immense  region  of  the  classic  West, 
the  mind  of  a  philanthropist  is  filled  with  feelings  of  admira- 
tion.    But  to  reach  this  country,  one  is  obliged  to  descend 


138  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES, 

from  the  light  and  glow  of  civilized  atmosphere,  through  the 
different  grades  of  civilization,  which  gradually  sink  to  the 
most  deplorable  condition  along  the  extreme  frontier ;  thence 
through  the  most  pitiable  misery  and  wretchedness  of  savage 
degradation,  where  the  genius  of  natural  liberty  and  inde- 
pendence have  been  blasted  and  destroyed  by  the  contamina- 
ting vices  and  dissipations,  introduced  by  the  immoral  part  of 
civilized  society. 

4.  Through  this  dark  and  sunken  vale  of  wretchedness,  one 
hurries,  as  through  a  pestilence,  until  he  gradually  rises  again 
into  the  proud  and  chivalrous  pale  of  savage  society,  in  its 
state  of  original  nature,  beyond  the  reach  of  civilized  contam- 
ination. Here  he  finds  much,  upon  which  to  fix  his  enthusiasm, 
and  much  to  admire.  Even  here  the  predominant  passions  of 
the  savage  breast,  of  ferocity  and  cruelty,  are  often  found ; 
yet  restrained  and  frequently  subdued  by  the  noblest  traits  of 
honor  and  magnanimity.  Here  exists  a  race  of  men  who  live 
and  enjoy  life  and  its  luxuries,  and  practice  its  virtues,  very  far 
beyond  the  usual  estimation  of  the  world  who  are  apt  to  judge 
the  savage  and  his  virtues,  from  the  poor,  degraded,  and  hum- 
ble specimens  which  alone  can  be  seen  along  our  frontiers. 

5.  From  the  first  'settlements  of  our  Atlantic  coast  to  the 
present  day,  the  bane  of  this  blasting  frontier  has  regularly 
crowded  upon  them,  from  the  northern  to  the  southern  extrem- 
ities of  our  country ;  and,  like  the  fire  in  a  prairie,  which  de- 
stroys every  thing  where  it  passes,  it  has  blasted  and  sunk 
them,  all  but  their  names,  into  oblivion,  wherever  it  has  trav- 
eled. It  is  to  this  tainted  class  alone  that  the  epithet  of  "  poor, 
naked,  and  drunken  savage,"  can  be,  with  propriety,  applied ; 
for,  all  those  numerous  tribes  which  I  have  visited,  and  are  yet 
uncorrupted  by  the  vices  of  civilized  acquaintance,  are  well 
clad,  in  many  instances  cleanly,  and  in  the  full  enjoyment  of 
life  and  its  luxuries. 

6.  It  is  a  sad  and  melancholy  truth  to  contemplate,  that  all 
the  numerous  tribes  who  inhabited  our  vast  Atlantic  States, 
have  not  "  fled  to  the  West ;" — that  they  are  not  to  be  found 
here, — that   they  have  been  blasted   by  the   fire  which  has 


FIFTH     BOOK.  189 

passed  over  them,  have  sunk  into  their  graves,  and  every  thing 
but  their  names  traveled  into  oblivion.  The  distinctive  char- 
acter of  all  these  Western  Indians,  as  well  as  their  traditions 
relative  to  their  ancient  locations,  prove,  beyond  a  doubt,  that 
they  have  been,  for  a  long  time,  located  on  the  soil  which  they 
noAv  possess ;  and,  in  most  respects,  distinct  and  unlike  those 
nations  who  formerly  inhabited  the  Atlantic  coast,  and  who, 
according  to  the  erroneous  opinion  of  a  great  part  of  the  world, 
have  fled  to  the  West. 

7.  It  is  for  these  inoffensive  and  unoffending  people,  yet  un- 
visited  by  the  vices  of  civilized  society,  that  I  would  proclaim 
to  the  world,  that  it  is  time,  for  the  honor  of  our  country — 
for  the  honor  of  every  citizen  of  the  republic — and  for  the 
sake  of  humanity,  that  our  government  should  raise  her  strong 
arm  to  save  the  remainder  of  them  from  the  pestilence  which 
is  rapidly  advancing  upon  them.  My  heart  has  sometimes 
almost  bled  with  pity,  while  among  them,  and  witnessing  their 
innocent  amusements,  as  I  have  contemplated  the  inevitable 
bane  that  was  rapidly  advancing  upon  them ;  without  that 
check  from  the  protecting  arm  of  government,  which  alone  can 
shield  them  from  destruction. 

8.  What  degree  of  happiness  these  sons  of  Nature  may  at- 
tain to  in  the  Avorld,  in  their  own  way ;  or  iu  w  hat  proportion 
they  may  relish  the  pleasures  of  life,  compared  to  the  sum  of 
happiness  belonging  to  civilized  society,  has  long  been  a  sub- 
ject of  much  doubt,  and  one  which  I  can  not  undertake  to  de- 
cide. I  have  long  looked,  with  the  eye  of  a  critic,  into  the 
jovial  faces  of  these  sons  of  the  forest,  unfurrowed  with  cares, 
— where  the  agonizing  feeling  of  poverty  had  never  stamped, 
distress  upon  the  brow.  I  have  watched  the  bold,  intrepid 
step, — the  proud,  yet  dignified  deportment  of  Nature's  man,  in 
fearless  freedom,  with  a  soul  unalloyed  by  mercenary  lusts,  too 
great  to  yield  to  laws  or  power,  except  from  God. 

9.  As  these  independent  fellows  are  all  joint-tenants  of  the 
soil,  they  are  all  rich,  and  none  of  the  steepings  of  compara- 
tive poverty  can  strangle  their  just  claims  to  renown.  WTio, 
I  would  ask,  can  look,  without  admiring,  into  a  society  where 


140  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

peace  and  harmony  prevail, — where  virtue  is  cherished, — where 
rights  are  protected,  and  wrongs  are  redressed, — with  no  laws, 
but  tlie  laws  of  honor,  which  are  the  supreme  laws  of  the 
land  ?  Trust  to  boasted  virtues  of  civilized  society  for  awhile? 
with  all  its  intellectual  refinements,  to  such  a  tribunal,  and  then 
write  down  the  degradation  of  the  "  lawless  savage,"  and  our 
transcendent  virtues. 


LESSON    XXXIU 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  The  Par'thenon  was  a  temple  sacred  to 
Minerva,  situated  on  the  summit  of  the  Acropohs  or  citadel  of  Athens, 
and  thus  elevated  far  above  the  surrounding  edifices.  In  beauty  and 
grandeur  it  surpassed  all  other  buildings  of  the  kind,  and  was  enriched 
with  the  matchless  sculptures  fi-om  the  hands  of  Phidias  and  his  scholars. 
It  is  now  much  dilapidated. 

2.  The  Col  i  se'  um  was  the  greatest  amphitheater  that  Roman  mag- 
nificence ever  built.  It  is  said  to  have  been  capable  of  holding  a  hun- 
dred thousand  persons.     It  now  presents  a  gigantic  ruin. 

3.  The  temple  of  Jc'  pi  ter  0  lym'  pi  us  was  in  ancient  Athens.  The 
inside  was  nearly  a  half  league  in  circumference.  Here  stood  the  won- 
derful statue  of  Jupiter,  made  of  ivory  and  gold  by  the  hands  of  Phidias. 

DESCRIPTION  OP  THE  RUINS  AT  BALBEO. 

From  the  French  of  lamartinb. 

1.  We  rose  with  the  sun,  whose  first  rays  struck  on  the  tem- 
ples of  Balbec,  and  gave  to  those  mysterious  ruins  that  eclat 
which  his  brilliant  light  ever  throws  over  scenes  which  it  il- 
luminates. Soon  we  arrived,  on  the  northern  side,  at  the  foot 
of  the  gigantic  walls  which  surround  those  beautiful  remains. 
A  clear  stream,  flowing  over  a  bed  of  granite,  murmured 
around  the  enormous  blocks  of  stone,  fallen  from  the  top  of 
the  wall  which  obstructed  its  course.  Beautiful  sculptures 
were  half  concealed  in  the  limpid  stream.  We  passed  the 
rivulet  by  an  arch  formed  by  these  fallen  remains,  and,  mount- 
ing a  narrow  breach,  were  soon  lost  in  admiration  of  the  scene 
which  surrounded  us. 

2.  At  every  step  a  fresh  exclamation  of  surprise  broke  from 
our  lips.  Every  one  of  the  stones,  of  which  that  wall  was 
composed,  was  from  eight  to  ten  feet  in  length,  by  five  or  six 


FIFTH     BOOK.  141 

in  breadth,  and  as  much  in  hight.  They  rest,  without  cement, 
one  upon  the  other,  and  almost  all  bear  the  mark  of  Indian  or 
Egyptian  sculpture.  At  a  single  glance,  you  see  that  these 
enormous  stones  are  not  placed  in  their  original  site — that  they 
are  the  precious  remains  of  temples  of  still  more  remote  an- 
tiquity, which  were  made  use  of  to  encircle  this  colony  of 
Grecian  and  Roman  citizens. 

3.  When  we  reached  the  summit  of  the  breach,  our  eyes 
knew  not  to  what  object  first  to  turn.  On  all  sides  AYere  gates 
of  marble,  of  prodigious  hight  and  magnitude, — windows  or 
niches,  fringed  with  the  richest  fi'iezes, — fallen  pieces  of  cor- 
nices, of  entablatures,  or  capitals,  thick  as  the  dust  beneath  our 
feet, — magnificent  vaulted  roofs  above  our  heads, — everywhere 
a  chaos  of  confused  beauty,  the  remains  of  which  lay  scattered 
about,  or  piled  on  each  other  in  endless  variety.  So  prodigious 
was  the  accumulation  of  architectural  remains,  that  it  defies 
all  attempts  at  classification,  or  conjecture  of  the  kind  of  build- 
ings, to  which  the  greater  part  of  them  had  belonged. 

4.  After  passing  through  this  scene  of  ruined  magnificence, 
we  reached  an  inner  wall,  which  we  also  ascended ;  and,  from 
its  summit  the  view  of  the  interior  was  yet  more  splendid. 
Of  much  greater  extent,  far  more  richly  decorated  than  the 
outer  circle,  it  presented  an  immense  platform,  the  level  sur- 
face of  which  was  frequently  broken  by  the  remains  of  still 
more  elevated  pavements,  on  which  temples  to  the  sun,  the  ob- 
ject of  adoration  at  Balbec,  had  been  erected.  All  around 
that  platform  was  a  series  of  lesser  temples,  or  chapels,  deco- 
rated with  niches,  admirably  engraved,  and  loaded  with  sculp- 
tured ornaments,  to  a  degree  that  appeared  excessive  to  those 
who  had  seen  the  severe  simplicity  of  the  Parthenon'  or  the 
Coliseum.^ 

5.  But  how  prodigious  the  accumulation  of  architectural 
riches  in  the  middle  of  an  eastern  desert !  Combine  in  imagi- 
nation the  temple  of  Jupiter  Stator,  and  the  Coliseum  at  Rome, 
of  Jupiter  Olympius^,  and  the  Acropolis  at  Athens,  and  you 
will  yet  fall  short  of  that  marvelous  assemblage  of  admirable 
edifices  and  sculptures.     Many  of  the  temples  rest  on  columns 


142  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

seventy  feet  in  liight,  and  seven  feet  in  diameter,  yet  composed 
only  of  two  or  three  blocks  of  stone,  so  perfectly  joined 
together  that,  to  this  day,  you  can  barely  discern  the  lines 
of  their  junction.  Silence  is  the  only  language  Avhich  befits 
man,  when  words  are  inadequate  to  convey  his  impressions. 
We  remained  mute  with  admiration,  gazing  on  the  eternal 
ruins. 

6.  The  shades  of  night  overtook  us,  while  we  yet  rested  in 
amazement  at  the  scene,  by  which  we  were  surrounded.  One 
by  one,  they  enveloped  the  columns  in  their  obscurity,  and 
added  a  mystery  the  more  to  that  magical  and  mysterious 
work  of  time  and  man.  AVe  appeared,  as  compared  with  the 
gigantic  mass  and  long  duration  of  these  monuments,  as  the 
swallows  which  nestle  a  season  in  the  crevices  of  the  capitals, 
without  knowing  by  whom,  or  for  whom,  they  have  been  con- 
structed. 

Y.  The  thoughts,  the  wishes,  which  moved  these  masses, 
are  to  us  unknown.  The  dust  of  marble  which  we  tread  be- 
neath our  feet,  knows  more  of  it  than  we  ;  but  it  can  not  tell 
us  what  it  has  seen ;  and,  in  a  few  ages,  the  generations  which 
shall  come,  in  their  turn,  to  visit  our  monuments,  will  ask,  in 
like  manner,  wherefore  we  have  built  and  engraved.  The 
works  of  man  survive  his  thought.  Movement  is  the  law  of 
the  human  mind ;  the  definite  is  the  dream  of  his  pride  and 
his  io-norance. 

8.  God  is  a  limit  which  appears  ever  to  recede  as  humanity 
approaches  him ;  we  are  ever  advancing,  and  never  arrive. 
This  great  Divine  Figure  which  man  from  his  infancy,  is  ever 
striving  to  reach,  and  to  imprison  in  his  structures  raised  by 
hands,  forever  enlarges  and  expands ;  it  outsteps  the  narrow 
limits  of  temples,  and  leaves  the  altars  to  crumble  into  dust ; 
and  calls  man  to  seek  for  it,  where  alone  it  resides — in  thought, 
in  intelligence,  in  virtue,  in  nature,  in  infinity. 

9.  Thy  glorious  ruins  proudly  I  survey, 

Trophies  of  firm  resolve,  of  patriot  might  I 
And,  in  each  trace  of  devastation's  way, 

Thy  moldering  ruins  meet  my  wandering  sight. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  14Sf 

LESSON  xxxnu 

THE  EFFECTS  OF  TIME. 

SELLECK  OSBOENE. 

1.  (o)  Moved  by  a  strange  mysterious  power, 

That  hastes  along  the  rapid  hour, 

I  touch  the  deep-toned  string ; 
Even  now  I  see  his  withered  face, 
Beneath  yon  tower's    moldering  base, 

Where  mossy  vestments  cling. 

2.  Dark  rolled  his  cheerless  eye  around. 
Severe  his  grisly  visage  frowned, 

No  locks  his  head  arrayed  ; 
He  grasped  a  hero's  antique  bust, — 
The  marble  crumbled  into  dust. 

And  sunk  amidst  the  shade ! 

8.  Malignant  triumph  filled  his  eyes  ; 

"  See,  hapless  mortals,  see,"  he  cries, 

"How  vain  your  idle  schemes! 
Beneath  my  grasp,  the  fairest  form 
Dissolves  and  mingles  with  the  worm; 

Thus  vanish  mortal  dreams. 

4.  "  The  works  of  God  and  man  I  spoil ; 
The  noblest  proofs  of  human  toil 

I  treat  as  childish  toys  ; 
I  crush  the  noble  and  the  brave ; 
Beauty  I  mar,  and  in  the  grave 

I  bury  human  joys." 

5.  "  Hold  !  ruthless  phantom,  hold  !"  I  cried  ; 
"  If  thou  canst  mock  the  dreams  of  pride, 

And  meaner  hopes  devour, — 
Virtue,  beyond  thy  reach,  shall  bloom, 
"When  other  charms  sink  to  the  tomb, — 

She  scorns  thy  envious  power." 

6.  On  frosty  wings  the  demon  fled, 
Howling,  as  o'er  the  wall  he  sped. 


144  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES 

*'  Another  year  is  gone  !" 
The  ruined  spire,  the  crumbling  tower, 
Nodding  obeyed  his  awful  power, 

As  Time  flew  swiftly  on. 

V.  Since  beauty,  then,  to  Time  must  bow. 
And  age  deform  the  fairest  brow, 

Let  brighter  charms  be  yours, — 
The  virtuous  mind,  embalmed  in  truth, 
Shall  bloom  in  everlasting  youth, 

While  Time  himself  endures. 


LESSON  XXXIY* 


Explanatory  Fotes. — 1.  Bab'  y  lon  was  the  capital  of  the  Assyrian 
empire,  situated  on  the  river  Euphrates.  The  extent  of  the  city,  as  rep- 
resented, approaches  the  miraculous.  It  was  surrounded  by  a  wall  about 
60  miles  ia  circumference,  87  feet  thick,  and  35  feet  high,  with  250  tow- 
ers and  100  brazen  gates.  But,  notwithstanding  its  greatness,  its  locaUtj 
was,  for  a  long  time,  a  subject  of  doubt. 

2.  Pal  my'  ra,  an  ancient  city  of  Syria,  is  now  but  a  vast  assemblage 
of  magnificent  ruins.  It  was  adorned  with  splendid  palaces  which,  though 
the  city  has  been  twice  destroyed,  still  excite  admiration. 

TIME'S  SOLILOQUY. 

1.  Old'!  call  you  me?  Ay!  when  the  Almighty  spoke 
creation  into  birth,  I  was  there.  Then  was  I  born.  Amid  the 
bloom  and  verdure  of  paradise,  I  gazed  upon  the  young  world 
radiant  with  celestial  smiles.  I  rose  upon  the  pinions  of  the 
first  morn,  and  caught  the  sweet  dew-drops  as  they  fell  and 
sparkled  on  the  boughs  of  the  garden.  Ere  the  foot  of  man 
was  heard  sounding  in  this  wilderness,  I  gazed  out  on  its  thou- 
sand rivers,  flashing  in  light,  and  reflecting  the  broad  sun,  like 
a  thousand  jewels  upon  their  bosoms. 

2.  The  cataracts  sent  up  their  anthems  in  these  solitudes, 
and  none  was  here  but  I,  to  listen  to  the  new-born  melody.  The 
fawns  bounded  over  the  hills,  and  drank  at  the  limpid  streams, 
ages  before  an  arm  was  raised  to  injure  or  make  them  afraid. 
For  thousands  of  years  the  morning  star  rose  in  beauty  upon 


FIFTH     BOOK.  145 

these  unpeopled  shores,  and  its  twin-sister  of  the  eve  flamed 
in  the  rbrehead  of  the  sky,  with  no  eye  to  admire  their  rays 
but  mine. 

3.  Aye !  call  me  old'  ?  Babylon'  and  Assyria,  Palmyra 
and  Thebes,  rose,  flourished,  and  fell,  and  I  beheld  them  in 
their  glory  and  their  decline.  Scarce  a  melancholy  ruin  marks 
the  place  of  their  existence  ;  but,  when  their  first  stones  were 
laid  in  the  earth,  I  was  there  !  Amid  all  their  splendor,  glory, 
and  wickedness,  I  was  in  their  busy  streets,  and  crumbling 
their  magnificent  palaces  to  the  earth.  My  books  will  show  a 
long  and  fearful  account  against  them.  I  control  the  fate  of 
empires  ;  I  give  them  their  period  of  glory  and  splendor  ;  but, 
at  their  birth,  I  conceal  in  them  the  seeds  of  death  and  decay. 
They  must  go  down  and  be  humbled  in  the  dust ;  their  heads 
bow  down  before  the  rising  glories  of  young  nations,  to  whose 
prosperity  there  will  also  come  a  date,  and  a  da}'^  of  decline. 

4.  I  poise  my  wings  over  the  earth,  and  watch  the  course 
and  doings  of  its  inhabitants.  I  call  up  the  violets  upon  the 
hill,  and  crumble  the  gray  ruins  to  the  ground.  I  am  the 
agent  of  a  Higher  Power,  to  give  life  and  to  take  it  away.  I 
spread  silken  tresses  upon  the  brow  of  the  young,  and  plant 
gray  hairs  on  the  head  of  the  aged  man.  Dimples  and  smiles, 
at  my  bidding,  lurk  around  the  lips  of  the  innocent  child,  and 
I  furrow  the  brow  of  the  aged  with  wrinkles. 

5.  Old' !  call  you  me  ?  Aye !  but  when  will  my  days  bo 
numbered  ?  When  shall  time  end,  and  eternity  begin  ?  When 
will  the  earth  and  its  waters — and  the  universe  be  rolled,  and 
a  new  world  commence  its  revolutions  ?  Not  till  He  who  first 
bid  rae  begin  my  flight,  so  orders  it.  When  His  purposes,  who 
called  me  into  being,  are  accomplished,  then,  and  not  till  then, 
— and  no  one  can  proclaim  the  hour — /,  too,  shall  go  to  the 
place  of  all  living. 


6.  The  bell  strikes  one.     We  take  no  note  of  time, 
But  from  its  loss  ;  to  give  it  then  a  tongue 
Is  wise  in  man.     As  if  an  angel  spoke, 

1 


146  SANDERS'"    NEW     SERIES. 

I  feel  the  solemn  sound.     If  heard  arieht. 

It  is  the  knell  of  my  departed  hours. 

Where  are  they  ?  With  the  years  beyond  the  flood. 

1.  It  is  the  signal  that  demands  dispatch ; 

How  much  is  to  be  done  ?     My  hopes  and  fears 

Start  up  alarmed,  and  o'er  life's  narrow  verge 

Look  down — on  what  ?     A  fathomless  abyss ! 

A  dread  eternity  !  how  surely  mine  ! 

And  can  eternity  belong  to  me, 

Poor  pensioner  on  the  bounties  of  an  hoiir  ? — YouNO. 


LESSON  XXXV* 
THE    JUST    RETRIBUTION. 


DiMOND. 

PjiiRSONS  Represented. — Alberti,  the  duke  whose  life  had  been  assailed, — • 
Jul:  AN, — Montaldi, — Stephano, — Ludovico, — Ambrose, — Vincent, 

— GUARliS.  &c, 

[Enter  Guards,  conducting  Julian, — all  the  characters  follow, — Alberti 
ascends  the  judgment  seat^ 

Alberti. — My  people  ! — the  cause  of  your  present  assem- 
blage, too  well  is  known  to  you.  You  come  to  witness  the 
dispensations  of  an  awful,  but  impartial  justice ; — either  to  re- 
joice in  the  acquittal  of  innocence,  wrongfully  accused,  or  to 
approve  the  conviction  of  guilt,  arrested  in  its  foul  career. 
Personal  feelings  forbid  me  to  assume  this  seat  myself ;  yet 
fear  not  but  that  it  will  be  filled  by  nobleness  and  honor ;  to 
Montaldi  only,  I  resign  it. 

Julian. — He,  my  judge  !  then  I  am  lost  indeed  ! 

Aid. — Ascend  the  seat,  my  friend,  and  decide  from  it  as  your 
own  virtuous  conscience  shall  direct.  This  only  Avill  I  say ; — 
should  the  scales  of  accusation  and  defense  poise  doubtfully, 
let  mercy  touch  them  with  her  downy  hand,  and  turn  the  bal- 
ance on  the  gentler  side. 

Montaldi.  \_Ascending  the  judgment  seat.^ — Your  will  and 
h  jnor  are  my  only  governors !  l^Bowing.J  Julian,  stand  forth  ; 
you  are  charged  with  a  most  foul  and  horrible  attempt  upon 


FIFTH     BOOK.  147 

the  life  of  my  noble  kinsman.  The  implements  of  murder 
have  been  found  in  your  possession,  and  many  powerful  cir- 
cumstances combine  to  fix  the  guilt  upon  you.  What  have 
you  to  urge  in  vindication  ? 

Jul. — First,  I  aver  by  that  Power  whom  vice  dreads,  and 
virtue  reverences,  that  no  word  but  strictest  truth  shall  pass 
my  lips.  On  yesterday  evening,  I  crossed  the  mountain  to  the 
monastery  of  St.  Bertrand  ;  my  errand  thither  finished,  I  re- 
turned directly  to  the  valley.  Rosalie  saw  me  enter  the  cot- 
tage. Soon  afterward,  a  strange  outcry  recalled  me  to  the 
door  ;  a  mantle  spread  before  the  threshold  caught  my  eye  ; — 
I  raised  it,  and  discovered  a  mask  within  it.  The  mantle  was 
newly  stained  with  blood  !  Consternation  seized  upon  my  soul ! 
The  next  moment  I  was  surrounded  by  guards,  and  accused 
of  murder  !  They  produced  the  weapon  which  I  had  lost  in 
defending  myself  against  a  ferocious  animal.  Confounded  by 
terror  and  surprise,  I  had  not  power  to  explain  the  truth,  and 
loaded  with  chains  and  reproaches,  I  was  dragged  to  the  dun- 
geons of  the  castle.  Here  my  knowledge  of  the  dark  trans- 
action ends,  and  I  have  only  this  to  add  ;  I  may  become  the 
victim  of  circumstance,  but  I  never  have  been  the  slave  of 
crime ! 

Mon.  \Ironicalhj  smiling?^ — Plausibly  iirged  ;  have  you  no 
more  to  ofter  ? 

Jul. — Truth  needs  but  few  words, — I  have  spoken  ! 

Mon. — Yet  bethink  yourself.  Dare  you  abide  by  this  wild 
tale,  and  brave  a  sentence  on  no  stronger  plea  ? 

Jul. — Alas !  I  have  none  else  to  ofi"er. 

Mon. — You  say,  on  yesterday  evening,  you  visited  the  mon- 
astery of  St.  Bertrand.     What  was  your  business  there  ?  "^ 

Jul. — To  engage  Father  Nicolo  to  marry  Rosalie  and  myself, 
on  the  following  morning. 

Mon. — A  marriage,  too !  Well,  at  what  time  did  you  quit 
the  monastery  ? 

Jul. — The  bell  for  vesper-service  had  just  ceased  to  toll. 

Mon. — By  what  path  did  you  return  to  the  valley  ? 

Jul. — Across  the  mountain. 


148  SANDERS'     NEW    SERIES. 

Mon. — Did  you  not  pass  througli  the  wood  of  olives,  where 
the  dark  deed  was  attempted  ? 

Jul.  \_Pausing^ — The  wood  of  olives  ? 

Mon. — Ha!  mark!  he  hesitates; — speak! 

Jul. — No  !  my  soul  scorns  to  tell  a  falsehood.  I  did  pass 
through  the  wood  of  olives. 

Mon. — Ay  !  and  pursuit  was  close  hchind.  Stephano,  you 
seized  the  prisoner  ? 

Stephano. — I  did.  The  bloody  weapon  bore  his  name  ;  the 
mask  and  mantle  were  in  his  hands,  confusion  in  his  counte- 
nance, and  every  limb  trembling  with  alarm. 

Mon. — Enough  !  Heavens !  that  villainy  so  monstrous 
should  inhabit  with  such  tender  youth  !  I  fain  would  doubt, 
and  in  spite  of  reason,  hesitate  to  give  my  sentence ;  but  con- 
Tiction  glares  from  every  point,  and  incredulity  would  now  be 
madness.  Not  to  descant  on  the  absurdity  of  your  defense — 
a  tale  too  wild  for  romance  to  sanction — I  find  from  your  ad- 
mission a  chain  of  circumstances,  that  confirms  your  crim- 
inality. The  time,  at  which  you  passed  the  wood,  and  the 
hour  of  the  duke's  attack,  precisely  correspond.  You  sought 
to  rush  on  fortune  by  the  readiest  path,  and  snatch  from  the 
unwary  traveler  that  sudden  wealth  which  honest  labor  could, 
only  by  slow  degrees,  obtain.  Defeated  in  the  dark  attempt, 
you  fled.  Pursuit  was  instant, — your  steps  were  traced, — and, 
at  the  very  door  of  your  cottage,  you  were  seized  before  the 
evidences  of  your  guilt  could  be  secreted,  Oh  !  wretched 
youth !  I  warn  you  to  confess.  Sincerity  can  be  your  only 
claim  to  mercy. 

Jul. — My  heart  will  burst ;  but  I  have  spoken  truth. 

Mon. — Then  I  must  exercise  my  duty.  Death  is  my  sen- 
tence. 

Jul. — Hold  !  pronounce  it  not  as  yet ! 

Mon. — If  you  have  any  further  evidence,  produce  it. 

Jul.  \_With  despairing  looki\ — I  call  on  Ludovico  I 

[Ludovico  hastily  stejps  forward.     Montaldi  starts  back  with  evident 
trepidation.^ 

Ludovico. — I  am  here  ! 


FIFTH     BOOK.  149 

Man. — And  wliat  can  he  unfold, — only  to  repeat  what  we 
already  know?     I  will  not  hear  him, — the  evidence  is  perfect. 

Alb.  \Ri&ing  hastily?^ — Hold  !  Montaldi,  Ludovico  must  be 
heard  ;  to  the  ear  of  justice,  the  slightest  syllable  of  proof  is 
precious. 

Mon.  [^Confused^ — I  stand  rebuked.  Well,  Ludovico,  de- 
pose your  evidence ! 

Lud. — Mine  was  the  fortunate  arm  appointed  by  Heaven  to 
rescue  the  duke.  I  fought  with  the  assassin,  and  drove  him 
beyond  the  trees,  into  the  open  lawn.  I  there  distinctly  marked 
his  figure,  and,  from  the  difference  in  the  hight  alone,  I  solemnly 
aver,  Julian  can  not  be  the  person. 

Mon. — This  is  no  proof  •  the  eye  might  easily  be  deceived. 
I  can  not  withhold  my  sentence  longer. 

Lud. — I  have  further  matter  to  advance.  Just  before  the 
ruffian  fled,  he  received  a  wound  across  his  right  hand  ;  the 
moonlight  directed  my  blow,  and  showed  me  that  the  cut 
was  deep  and  dangerous.     Julian's  fingers  bear  no  such  mark. 

Moil.  [ATanifesting  great  excitement,  and  involuntarily  draio- 
ing  his  glove  close  over  his  hand.l — A  wound  ! — mere  fable. 

Lud. — Nay,  more ;  the  same  blow  struck  from  off  one  of 
the  assassin's  fingers,  a  jewel ;  it  glittered  as  it  fell ;  I  snatched 
it  from  the  ground, — thrust  it  within  my  bosom,  and  have 
ever  since  preserved  it  next  my  heart ;  I  now  produce  it, — 
'tis  here — a  ring — an  amethyst  set  with  brilliants  ! 

Alb.  \Rising  hastily^ — What  say  you  ?  an  amethyst  set 
with  brilliants  !  even  such  I  gave  Montaldi.     Let  me  view  it, 

[As  Ludovico  advances  to  present  the  ring  to  the  duke,  Montaldi  rushes 
with  frantic  impetuosity  between,  and  attempts  to  seize  it-l 

Mon. — Slave  !  resign  the  ring ! 

Lud. — I  will  yield  my  life  sooner  ! 

Mon. — Wretch!  I  will  rend  thy  frame  to  atoms.  \^They 
struggle  with  violence.  Montaldi  snatches  at  the  ring, — Ludo^ 
vice  catches  his  hand  and  tears  off  the  glove, — the  wound  appears^ 

Lud. — O,  Heavens  !  murder  is  unmasked, — the  bloody  mark 
is  here  !  Montaldi  is  the  assassin.  [All  rush  forward  in  aS" 
'  tonishment.J 


150  SANDERS'    NEW     SERIES. 

Mon. — Shame  !  madness  ! 

Alh. — Eternal  Providence  !     Montaldi,  a  murderer  / 

Mon. — Ay !  accuse  and  curse  !  idiots  !  dupes !  I  heed  you 
not.  I  can  but  die  !  Triumph  not,  Alberti, — I  trample  on 
thee  still !  \^Draws  a  poniard  and  attempts  to  destroy/  himself. 
The  weajjon  is  wrested  from  his  hand  by  the  guards^ 

Alb. — Fiend  !  thy  power  to  sin  is  past. 

Mon.  [^Delirious  with  passion^ — Ha !  ha !  ha  !  mj  brain 
scorches,  and  my  veins  run  with  fire  ! — disgraced,  dishonored  ! 
— Oh,  madness  !  I  can  not  bear  it ! — save  me — oh  !  \_FaUs  in- 
sensible into  the  arms  of  attendants^ 

Alb. — Wretched  man !  bear  him  to  his  chamber, — his  pun- 
ishment be  hereafter,      \_Montaldi  is  carried  off^ 

Jul. — Oh  !  my  joy  is  too  full  for  words  ! 

Ambrose. — My  noble  boy  ! 

Vincent. — Rosalie  shall  reward  him. 

Alb. — Yes  ;  they  are  children  of  virtue  !  their  happiness 
shall  be  my  future  care.  Let  this  day,  through  each  return- 
ing year,  become  a  festal  on  my  domain.  Heaven,  with  pe- 
culiar favor,  has  marked  it  for  its  own,  and  taught  us,  by  the 
simple  moral  of  this  hour,  that,  howsoever  in  darkness  guilt 
may  vail  its  malefactions  from  the  eye  of  man,  an  Omniscient 
Judge  Avill  penetrate  each  hidden  sin,  and  still,  with  never- 
failing  justice,  confound  the  vicious,  and  protect  the  good ! 


LESSON  XXXVU 

SEARCH   AFTER  WISDOM. 

1.  I  ASKED  the  sage,  when  wandering  afar 

In  search  of  wisdom's  bright  and  shining  star  : — 

"  What's  wisdom  ?"  He  exclaimed,  with  tearful  eyes  :- 

"  The  fear  of  God's  the  wisdom  of  the  wise." 

2.  I  asked  the  rainboiu's  changing  tints  of  light, — 
The  glorious  harbinger  of  mercy  bright : — 

"  'Twas  wisdom  robed  me  thus,  the  earth  to  span, 
And  bade  me  lull  the  fearfiil  heart  of  man." 


FIFTH     BOOK.  151 

3.  I  asked  the  ocean, — and  its  ceaseless  tide, 
In  hollow  murmurs,  to  my  voice  replied  : — 

"  Behold  my  swelling  waves,  their  ebb  and  flow. 
The  hand  of  wisdom  marks  how  far  to  go." 

4.  Then  I  pursued  the  pure,  the  golden  sun, 

And  found  him,  when  his  course  was  nearly  done ; 
"  0  stay  me  not,"  he  cried,  "  check  not  my  pace, — 
'Tis  wisdom's  work  to  run  the  heavenly  race." 

6.  I  asked  the  stars  to  track  me  wisdom's  way, 
In  the  high  heav'n  of  glory,  where  they  lay ; 
"  'Tis  wisdom's  path,"  they  said,  "  that  we  have  trod, 
The  path  of  wisdom  is — the  will  of  God.'' 

6.  I  asked  the  moon, — the  moon  that  shone  afar, 
In  her  pale  light  within  her  crescent  car ; 

"  Wisdom  is  knowledge  of  the  hand  divine, 
That  bade  me  be,  and  placed  me  here  to  shine." 

7.  The  silv'ry  spheres  caught  up  the  heavenly  song, 
Echoed  through  endless  space,  it  rolled  along ; 
Angels  rejoiced,  and  filled  with  holy  fires, 
Tuned  unto  wisdom  all  their  golden  lyres. 

8.  "  True  wisdom  is  the  influence  brightly  glowing, 
From  th'  Almighty's  glory  ever  flowing ; — 

Th'  unspotted  mirror  of  his  power  and  might, — 
The  radiance  of  the  everlasting  light !" 

9.  Then,  earth-born  man,  attune  thy  sacred  lyre, 
And  join  the  chorus  of  the  heavenly  choir 

In  praise  to  thy  great  Maker  God  above. 
Whose  will  is  wisdom,  and  whose  rod  is  love. 


LESSON   XXXVIU 
THE   VALUE   OF  WISDOM. 


BtBLB. 


1.  But  where  shall  wisdom  be  found  ? 

And  where  is  the  place  of  understanding  ? 


152  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Man  knowetli  not  the  price  thereof; 

Neither  is  it  found  in  the  land  of  the  living. 

The  depth  saith,  It  is  not  in  me  ; 

And  the  sea  saith,  It  is  not  with  me. 

It  can  not  be  gotten  for  gold, 

Neither  shall  silver  be  weighed  for  the  price  thereof' 

2.  It  can  not  be  valued  with  the  gold  of  Ophir, — 
With  the  precious  onyx  or  the  sapphire. 

The  gold  and  the  crystal  can  not  equal  it ; 

And  the  exchange  of  it  shall  not  be  for  jewels  of  fine  gold. 

No  mention  shall  be  made  of  coral,  or  of  pearls ; 

For  the  price  of  wisdom  is  above  rubies. 

The  topaz  of  Ethiopia  shall  not  equal  it, 

Neither  shall  it  be  valued  with  pure  gold. 

3.  Whence  then  cometh  wisdom  ? 

And  where  is  the  place  of  understanding  ? 

Seeing  it  is  hid  from  the  eyes  of  all  living, 

And  kept  close  from  the  fowls  of  the  air. 

Destruction  and  death  say. 

We  have  heard  the  fame  thereof  with  our  ears ; 

God  understandeth  the  way  thereof, 

And  He  knoweth  the  place  thereof. 

4.  For  He  looketh  to  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
And  seeth  under  the  whole  heaven  ; 
To  make  the  weight  for  the  winds ; 

And  He  weigh eth  the  waters  by  measure. 

When  He  made  a  decree  for  the  rain, 

And  a  way  for  the  lightning  of  the  thunder, 

Then  did  He  see  it,  and  declare  it ; 

He  prepared  it,  yea,  and  searched  it  out ; 

And  unto  man  He  said  : — 

Behold  !  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  that  is  wisdom ; 

And  to  depart  from  evil  is  understanding. 


FIFTH      BOOK.  153 

THE   VOICE   OF   WISDOM. 

POLLOK. 

Wisdom  took  up  lier  harp,  and  stood  in  place 
Of  frequent  concourse, — stood  in  every  gate, 
By  every  way,  and  walked  in  every  street ; 
And,  lifting  up  lier  voice,  proclaimed  : — "  Be  wise, 
Ye  fools  !  be  of  an  understanding  heart. 
Forsake  the  wicked ;  come  not  near  his  house ; 
Pass  by  ;  make  haste ;  depart,  and  turn  away. 
Me  follow — me,  whose  ways  are  pleasantness. 
Whose  paths  are  peace,  whose  end  is  perfect  joy." 

The  Seasons  came  and  went,  and  went  and  came, 
To  teach  men  gratitude ;  and,  as  they  passed, 
Gave  warning  of  the  lapse  of  time,  that  else 
Had  stolen  unheeded  by.     The  gentle  flowers 
Retired,  and,  stooping  o'er  the  wilderness, 
Talked  of  humility,  and  peace,  and  love. 
The  Dews  came  down  unseen  at  evening-tide, 
And  silently  their  bounties  shed,  to  teach 
Mankind  unostentatious  charity. 

With  arm  in  arm  the  Forest  rose  on  high. 

And  lesson  gave  of  brotherly  regard. 

And,  on  the  rugged  mountain-brow  exposed^ — " 

Bearing  the  blast  alone,  the  ancient  oak 

Stood,  lifting  high  his  mighty  arm,  and  still 

To  courage  in  distress  exhorted  loud. 

The  flocks,  the  herds,  the  birds,  the  streams,  the  breeze. 

Attuned  the  heart  to  melody  and  love. 

Mercy  stood  in  the  cloud,  with  eye  that  wept 
Essential  love ;  and,  from  her  glorious  bow, 
Bending  to  kiss  the  earth  in  token  of  peace. 
With  her  own  lips — her  gracious  lips,  which  God 
Of  sweetest  accent  made,  she  whispered  still,  d 

She  whispered  to  Revenge  : — "  Forgive,  forgive !"  ] 

7* 


154  SANDERS'    NEW     SERIES. 

5.  The  Sun  rejoicing  round  tlie  earth,  announced 
Daily  the  wisdom,  power,  and  love  of  God. 
The  Moon  awoke,  and,  from  her  maiden  face. 
Shedding  her  cloudy  locks,  looked  meekly  forth, 
And  with  her  virgin  stars  walked  in  the  heavens, — 
Walked  nightly  there,  conversing  as  she  walked, 
Of  purity,  and  holiness,  and  God. 

6.  In  dreams  and  visions.  Sleep  instructed  much. 
Day  uttered  speech  to  day,  and  night  to  night 
Taught  knowledge  :  silence  had  a  tongue  :  the  grave, 
The  darkness,  and  the  lonely  waste,  had  each 

A  tongue  that  ever  said  : — "  Man  !  think  of  God  ! 
Think  of  thyself!  think  of  eternity !" 
Fear  God,  the  thunders  said  ;  fear  God,  the  waves ; 
Fear  God,  the  lightning  of  the  storm  replied  ; 
Fear  God,  deep  loudly  answered  back  to  deep. 


LESSON    XXXIX* 
Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Her'  ald  ry  is  the  art  or  practice  of  record- 
hig  genealogies,  and  blazoning  or  displaying  arms. 

2.  Chau'cer  was  the  first  great  English  author.  He  died  in  the  year 
laOO.     He  is  generally  known  as  the  "Father  of  English  poetry." 

3.  Pope  was  one  of  the  first  poets  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

4.  The  PA^f  the'  on  was  a  magnificent  temple  at  Rome,  dedicated  to  all 
the  gods.  It  was  built  30  years  before  Christ,  by  Agrippa,  in  the  reign  of 
Augnstus.  It  was  converted  into  a  Christian  temple  in  the  year  609,  and 
it  still  remains  in  almost  a  perfect  state  of  preservation.  It  contains  one 
immense  circular  hall,  crowned  with  a  lofty  dome,  and  lighted  from  above. 

5.  tJ  to'  pi  AN  is  a  word  derived  from  Utopia,  a  name  signifying  noplace 
or  an  imaginary  place.     Hence,  Utopian  means  fa7ic}'ful. 

AMERICAN   HISTORY. 

GULIAN  C.  VERPLANCK. 

[From  a  Discourse  before  the  New  York  Historical  Society.'] 
1.  The  study  of  the  history  of  most  other  nations,  fills  the 
mind  with  sentiments,  not  unlike  those  which  the  American 
traveler  feels,  on  entering  the  venerable  and  lofty  cathedral  of 
some  proud  old  city  of  Europe.  Its  solemn  grandeur,  its  vast- 
ness,  and  its  obscurity,  strike  awe  to  his  heart.    From  the  richly- 


FIFTH     BOOK.  155 

painted  windows,  filled  with  sacred  emblems  and  strange  an- 
tique forms,  a  dim  religious  light  falls  around.  A  thousand 
recollections  of  romance,  poetry,  and  legendary  story,  come 
thronging  in  upon  him.  He  is  surrounded  by  the  tombs  of 
the  mighty  dead,  rich  with  the  labors  of  ancient  art,  and  em- 
blazoned with  the  pomp  of  heraldry.' 

2.  What  names  does  he  read  upon  them  ?  Those  of  princes 
and  nobles  who  are  now  remembered  only  for  their  vices ; 
and  of  sovereigns,  at  whose  death  no  tears  were  shed,  and 
whose  memories  lived  not  an  hour  in  the  affection  of  their  peo- 
ple. There,  too,  he  sees  other  names,  long  familiar  to  him  for 
their  guilty  or  ambiguous  fame.  There  rest  the  blood-stained 
soldier  of  fortune,  the  orator  who  was  ever  the  ready  apologist 
of  tyranny, — great  scholars  who  were  the  pensioned  flatterers 
of  power, — and  poets  who  profaned  the  high  gift  of  genius,  to 
pamper  the  vices  of  a  corrupted  court. 

3.  Our  own  history,  on  the  contrary,  like  that  poetical  tem- 
ple of  fame,  reared  by  the  imagination  of  Chaucer,"  and  dec- 
orated by  the  taste  of  Pope,'  is  almost  exclusively  dedicated 
to  the  memory  of  the  truly  great.  Or  rather,  like  the  Pan, 
theon*  of  Rome,  it  stands  in  calm  and  severe  beauty  amid  the 
ruins  of  ancient  magnificence,  and  "  the  toys  of  modern  state." 
Within,  no  idle  ornament  encumbers  its  simplicity.  The  pure 
light  of  heaven  enters  from  above,  and  sheds  an  equal  and  se- 
rene radiance  around.  As  the  eye  wanders  about  its  extent, 
it  beholds  the  unadorned  monuments  of  brave  and  good  men 
who  have  bled  or  toiled  for  their  country,  or  it  rests  on  votive 
tablets  inscribed  with  the  names  of  the  best  benefactors  of 
mankind. 

4  "  Patriots  are  here,  in  Freedom's  battle  slain ; 

Priests,  whose  long  lives  were  closed  without  a  stain ; 
Bards  worthy  him  who  breathed  the  poet's  mind ; 
Founders  of  arts  that  dignify  mankind ; 
And  lovers  of  our  race,  whose  labors  gave 
Their  names  a  memory  that  defies  the  grave." 

5.  If  Europe  has  hitherto  been  willfully  blind  to  the  value 
of  our  example  and  the  exploits  of  our  sagacity,  courage,  inveU' 


156  SANDERS'    NEW    SERIES. 

tion,  and  freedom,  the  blame  must  rest  with  her,  and  not  with 
America.  Is  it  nothing  for  the  universal  good  of  mankind  to 
have  carried  into  successful  operation  a  system  of  self-govern- 
ment, uniting  personal  liberty,  freedom  of  opinion,  and  equal- 
ity of  rights,  with  national  power  and  dignity,  such  as  had  be- 
fore existed  only  in  the  Utopian^  dreams  of  Philosophers  ?  Is 
it  nothing  in  moral  science,  to  have  anticipated  in  sober  reality, 
numerous  plans  of  reform  in  civil  and  criminal  jurisprudence, 
which  are,  but  now,  received  as  plausible  theories  by  the  poli> 
ticians  and  economists  of  Europe? 

6.  (<)  Is  it  nothing  to  have  been  able  to  call  forth  on  every 
emergency,  either  in  war  or  peace,  a  body  of  talents  always 
equal  to  the  difficulty  ?  Is  it  nothing  to  have,  in  less  than  a 
half  century,  exceedingly  improved  the  sciences  of  political 
economy,  of  law,  and  of  medicine,  with  all  their  auxiliary 
branches ; — to  have  enriched  human  knowledge  by  the  accumu- 
lation of  a  great  mass  of  useful  facts  and  observations,  and  to 
have  augmented  the  power  and  the  comforts  of  civilized  man, 
by  miracles  of  mechanical  invention  ?  Is  it  nothing  to  have 
given  the  world  examples  of  disinterested  patriotism,  of  polit- 
ical wisdom,  of  public  virtue,  of  learning,  eloquence,  and 
valor,  never  exerted,  save  for  some  praiseworthy  end  ?     . 

7.  Land  of  Liberty  !  thy  children  have  -no  cause  to  blush 
for  thee.  What  though  the  arts  have  reared  few  monuments 
among  us,  and  scarce  a  trace  of  the  Muse's  footstep  is  found 
in  the  paths  of  our  forests,  or  along  the  banks  of  our  rivers  ; 
yet  our  soil  has  been  consecrated  by  the  blood  of  heroes,  and 
by  great  and  holy  deeds  of  peace.  Its  wide  extent  has  be- 
come one  vast  temple  and  hallowed  asylum,  sanctified  by  the 
prayers  and  blessings  of  the  persecuted  of  every  sect,  and  the 
wretched  of  all  nations. 

8.  Land  of  Refuge  !  Land  of  Benedictions  !  Tliose  pray- 
ers still  arise,  and  they  still  are  heard  :  "May  peace  be  within 
thy  walls,  and  plenteousness  within  thy  palaces !"  "  May 
there  be  no  decay,  nor  leading  into  capti\ity,  and  no  complain- 
ing in  thy  streets  !"  "  May  truth  flourish  out  of  the  earth, 
and  righteousness  look  down  from  Heaven  !" 


FIFTH     BOOK.  157 

LESSON  XL* 

AMERICAN    INDEPENDENCE. 

A.  B.  STREET. 

1.  Hail  to  the  planting  of  Liberty's  tree ! 
Hail  to  the  charter  declaring  us  free ! 
Millions  of  voices  are  chanting  its  praises, 

Millions  of  worshipers  bend  at  its  shrine, 
"Wherever  the  sun  of  America  blazes, 
Wherever  the  stars  of  our  bright  banner  shine. 

2.  Sino;  to  the  heroes  who  breasted  the  flood 

That,  swelling,  rolled  o'er  them,  a  deluge  of  blood. 
Fearless  they  clung  to  the  ark  of  the  nation, 

And  dashed  on  mid  lightning,  and  thunder,  and  blast, 
Till  Peace,  like  the  dove,  brought  her  branch  of  salvation. 

And  Liberty's  mount  was  their  refuge  at  last. 

3.  Bright  is  the  beautiful  land  of  our  birth, 
The  home  of  the  homeless  all  over  the  earth. 
Oh  !  let  us  ever  with  fondest  devotion, 

The  freedom  our  fathers  bequeathed  us,  watch  o'er, 

Till  the  Angel  shall  stand  on  the  earth  and  the  ocean. 

And  shout  mid  earth's  ruins,  that  Time  is  no  more. 


LESSON  XLI. 

CONTEMPLATION  OF   THE   STARRY   HEAVENS. 

THOMAS  DICK. 

1.  The  starry  heavens  present,  even  to  the  untutored  ob- 
server, a  sublime  and  elevating  spectacle.  He  beholds  an  im- 
mense concave  hemisphere,  surrounding  the  earth  in  every 
direction,  and  resting,  as  it  were,  upon  the  circle  of  the  horizon. 
Wherever  he  roams  abroad,  on  the  surface  of  the  land  or  of 
the  ocean,  this  celestial  vault  still  appears  encompassing  the 
world  ;  and,  after  traveling  thousands  of  miles,  it  seems  to  make 
no  nearer  an  approach  than  when  the  journey  commenced. 

2.  From  every  quarter  of  this  mighty  arch,  numerous  lights 
are  displayed,  moving  onward  in  solemn  silence,  and  calculated 


158  SANDERS'    NEW     SERIES. 

to  inspire  admiration  and  awe.  Even  the  rudest  savages  have 
been  struck  with  admiration  at  the  view  of  the  nocturnal 
heavens,  and  have  regarded  the  celestial  luminaries,  either  as 
the  residences  of  their  gods,  or  the  arbiters  of  their  future 
destinies.  But  to  minds  enlightened  with  the  discoveries  of 
science  and  revelation,  the  firmament  presents  a  scene  incom- 
parably more  magnificent  and  august. 

3.  Its  concave  rises  toward  immensity,  and  stretches,  on 
3very  hand,  to  regions  immeasurable  by  finite  intelligence  ;  it 
opens  to  the  view  a  glimpse  of  orbs  of  inconceivable  magni- 
tude and  grandeur,  and  arranged  in  multitudes  which  no  man 
can  number,  which  have  diff"used  their  radiance  on  the  earth 
during  hundreds  of  generations  ;  it  opens  a  vista  which  carries 
our  views  into  the  regions  of  infinity,  and  exhibits  a  sensible 
display  of  the  immensity  of  space,  and  of  the  boundless  op- 
erations of  Omnipotence. 

4.  It  demonstrates  the  existence  of  an  eternal  and  incom- 
prehensible Divinity,  who  presides,  in  all  the  grandeur  of  His 
attributes,  over  an  unlimited  empire ;  it  overwhelms  the  con- 
templative mind  with  a  display  of  the  riches  of  His  wisdom 
and  the  glories  of  His  Omnipotence  ;  it  directs  our  prospects 
to  the  regions  of  other  worlds,  where  myriads  of  intelligences, 
of  various  orders,  experience  the  efi"ects  of  divine  love  and  be- 
neficence. 

5.  Amidst  the  silence  and  the  solitude  of  the  midnight  scene, 
it  inspires  the  soul  with  a  solemn  awe,  and  with  reverential 
emotions ;  it  excites  admiration,  astonishment,  and  wonder  in 
every  reflecting  mind,  and  has  a  tendency  to  enkindle  the  fire 
of  devotion,  and  to  raise  the  aff'ections  to  that  ineffable  Being 
who  presides,  in  high  authority,  over  all  its  movements. 

6.  While  contemplating,  with  the  eye  of  intelligence,  this 
immeasurable  expanse,  it  teaches  us  the  littleness  of  man,  and 
of  all  that  earthly  pomp  and  splendor,  of  which  he  is  so  proud  ; 
it  shows  us  that  this  world,  with  all  its  furniture  and  decora- 
tions, is  but  an  almost  invisible  speck  on  the  great  map  of  the 
universe ;  and  that  our  thoughts  and  affections  ought  to  soar 
above  all  its  sinful  pursuits  and  its  transitory  enjoyments. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  159 

v.  In  short,  in  this  universal  temple,  hung  with  innumerable 
lights,  we  behold,  with  the  eye  of  imagination,  unnumbered  le- 
gions of  bright  intelligences,  unseen  by  mortal  eyes,  celebrating, 
in  ecstatic  strains,  the  perfections  of  Him  who  is  the  Creator 
and  Governor  of  all  worlds, — we  are  carried  forward  to  an  eter- 
nity to  come,  amidst  whose  scenes  and  revolutions  alone  the 
magnificent  objects  it  contains,  can  be  contemplated  in  all  their 
extent  and  grandeur. 


8.  O  !  who  can  lift  above  a  careless  look, 

"While  such  bright  scenes  as  these  his  thoughts  engage, 
And  doubt,  while  reading  from  so  fair  a  book. 

That  God's  own  finger  traced  the  glowing  page  ? 
Or  deem  the  radiance  of  yon  blue  expanse. 
With  all  its  starry  hosts,  the  careless  work  of  chance  ? 

Mrs.  Welby. 


LESSON    XLIU 

CONTEMPLATIOiSr  OF  THE   STARRY  HEAVENS.— 
Continued.  thomas  dick. 

1.  These  innumerable  globes  of  light  were  created  for  use 
— ^to  subserve  important  purposes  in  the  plan  of  the  Divine 
administration.  They  were  not  launched  through  the  spaces 
of  infinity  at  random,  merely  to  display  the  energies  of  Om- 
nipotence, and  to  light  up  the  wilds  of  immensity  with  a  use- 
less splendor.  Such  a  supposition  would  be  derogatory  to  the 
attributes  and  character  of  the  All-wise  Creator,  and  would 
distort  all  the  views  we  ought  to  entertain  of  a  Being  possessed 
of  infinite  perfection. 

2.  Those  immense  bodies  must,  therefore,  be  conceived  as 
intended  chiefly  to  diffuse  their  light  and  splendor  over  worlds^ 
with  which  they  are  more  immediately  connected,  and  for  the 
ultimate  design  of  communicating  happiness,  in  various  forms, 
to  the  different  orders  of  beings,  with  which  they  may  be 
replenished.  What  other  subordinate  ends  they  may  accom- 
plish in  the  grand  scheme  of  the  universe,  besides  the  advan- 


160  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

tages  we  derive  from  them,  is  beyond  our  province  to  deter- 
mine. 

3.  It  is  not  improbable  that  every  star  or  system,  may  have 
a  subordinate  end  to  serve  to  every  other  system,  as  forming 
parts  of  one  whole  under  the  government  of  Infinite  Wisdom. 
As  we  derive  advantages  from  these  orbs,  distant  as  they  are, 
and  as  they  diversify  the  ceiling  of  our  earthly  habitation  with 
a  splendid  decoration,  so  they  will  likewise  adorn  the  firma- 
ment of  other  systems,  and  display  to  the  view  of  their  inhab- 
itants, both  the  energies  of  Omnipotent  Power,  and  the  mani- 
fold wisdom  of  God.  I 

4.  We  have  no  reason  to  entertain  the  least  doubt  that  the 
stars  are  in  reality  suns,  and  the  distributors  of  light  to  other 
worlds,  any  more  than  we  ought  to  doubt  of  the  motion  of  the 
earth,  because  we  have  never,  from  a  fixed  point  in  the  firma- 
ment, beheld  it  wheeling  its  rapid  course  through  ethereal  space 
around  the  sun. 

6.  Since  the  stars  can  not,  with  the  least  show  of  reason,  be 
supposed  to  have  been  created  chiefly  for  the  use  of  our  globe, 
it  is  as  certain  as  moral  demonstration  can  make  it,  that  they 
were  principally  intended  to  fulfill  a  higher  and  a  nobler  pur- 
pose, and  that  this  purpose  has  a  respect  to  the  accommoda- 
tion and  happiness  of  intelligent  existence,  either  in  the  stars 
themselves,  or  in  worlds  which  revolve  around  them ;  for  the 
Creator  and  Governor  of  the  universe  must  be  considered,  in 
all  His  arrangements,  as  acting  in  perfect  consistency  with 
those  perfections  of  His  nature,  with  which  He  is  eternally  and 
essentially  invested. 

6.  But  to  suppose  the  innumerable  host  of  stars  to  be  only 
so  many  vast  insulated  globes,  hung  up  to  irradiate  the  void 
spaces  of  infinitude,  would  be  repugnant  to  all  the  concep- 
tions which  reason  and  revelation  lead  us  to  form  of  a  Being 
of  Infinite  perfection.  If,  then,  the  fixed  stars  are  the  cen- 
ters of  light  and  influence  to  surrounding  worlds,  how  im- 
mense must  that  empire  be,  over  which  the  moral  government 
of  the  Almighty  extends  !  How  expansive  the  range,  and 
how  diversified  the  order  of  planetary  systems !     How  nu- 


FIFTH     BOOK.  161 

merous  beyond  calculation  the  worlds  which  incessantly  roll 
throughout  the  immensity  of  space  ! 

7.  What  countless  legions  of  intellectual  beings,    of  every  , 

rank  and  capacity,  must  crowd  the  boundless  dominions  of  the  " 

King  eternal,  immortal,  and  invisible !  And  how  glorious  and 
incomprehensible  must  He  be,  whose  Avord  caused  this  vast 
fabric  to  start  into  existence,  and  who  superintends  every  mo- 
ment, the  immensity  of  beings,  with  which  it  is  replenished  ! 
In  attempting  to  grasp  such  scenes,  the  human  mind  is  bewil- 
dered and  overwhelmed,  and  can  only  exclaim  : — "  Great  and 

MAKVELOUS  ARE  ThY  WORKS,  LoRD  GoD  AlMIGHTY  1" 


.  8.  "  Seest  thou  those  orbs  that  numerous  roll  above  ? 
Those  lamps  that  nightly  greet  thy  visual  powers. 
Are  each  a  bright  capacious  sun  like  ours. 
The  telescopic  tube  will  still  descry 
Myriads  behind,  that  'scape  the  naked  eye, 
And  further  on,  a  new  discovery  trace 
Through  the  deep  regions  of  encompassed  space. 

9.  "  K  each  bright  star  so  many  suns  are  found, 
With  planetary  systems  circled  round, 
What  vast  infinitude  of  worlds  may  grace, — • 
What  beings  people  the  stupendous  space ! 
Whatever  race  possess  the  ethereal  plain. 
What  orbs  they  people,  or  what  ranks  mairtain  ! 

10.  "  Though  the  deep  secret  Heaven  conceal  below, 
One  truth  of  universal  scope  we  know, — 

Our  nobler  part,  the  same  ethereal  mind, 
Kelates  our  earth  to  all  their  reasoning  kind  j 
One  Deity,  one  sole  creating  cause. 
Our  active  cares  and  joint  devotion  draws. 

11.  "Child  of  the  earth  !  O,  lift  thy  glance 
To  yon  bright  firmament's  expanse, — 
The  glories  of  its  realms  explore, 
And  gaze,  and  wonder,  and  adore !" 


1G2  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON  XIxIIU 

Note. — The  following  sublime  Ode  to  the  Supreme  Being,  is  said 
to  have  been  translated  into  the  Chinese  and  Tartar  languages,  written  on 
silk,  and  suspended  in  the  Imperial  Palace  at  Pekin.  The  Emperor  of 
Japan  had  it  translated  into  Japanese,  embroidered  in  gold,  and  hung  up 
in  the  Temple  of  Jeddo. 

Direction. — The  following  poetry,  though  in  Rhyme,  resembles,  in  style 
and  punctuation,  Blank  Verse.  Care  is,  therefore,  requisite  in  the  reading 
to  denote  tlie  final  pause,  in  order  that  the  similarity  of  final  sounds  may 
be  clearly  expressed.  The  monotone  should  prevail  in  the  utterance,  and 
the  movement  should  be  slow,  expressive  of  sublimity. 

GOD. 

From  the  Russian  o/derzhatin. 

1.  ('o-)  0  Thou  Eternal  One  !  whose  presence  bright 

All  space  doth  occupy — all  motion  guide ; 
Unchanged  through  Time's  all-devastating  flight — 

Thou  only  God  !     There  is  no  God  beside, — 
Being  above  all  beings !     Mighty  One  ! 

Whom  none  can  comprehend,  and  none  explore  ; 
Who  fill'st  existence  with  Thyself  alone, 

Embracing  all — supporting — ruling  o'er  ; — 

Being  whom  we  call  God, — and  know  no  more! 

2.  In  its  sublime  research,  Philosophy 

May  measure  out  the  ocean  deep — may  count 
The  sands,  or  rays  of  sun, — but  God  !    for  Thee 

There  is  no  weight  or  measure ;  none  can  mount 
Up  to  Thy  mysteries.     Reason's  brightest  spark. 

Though  kindled  by  Thy  light,  in  vain  would  try 
To  trace  Thy  counsels,  infinite  and  dark  ; 

And  thought  is  lost  ere  thought  can  soar  so  high, 

Even  like  past  moments  in  eternity. 

3.  Thou  from  primeval  nothingness  didst  call 

First  chaos,  then  existence  ; — Lord,  on  Thee 
Eternity  had  its  foundation  ; — all 

Sprung  forth  from  Thee — of  light,  joy,  harmony, 
Sole  origin, — all  life, — all  beauty.  Thine, 

Thy  word  created  all,  and  doth  create ; — 


FIFTH     BOOK.  163 

Thy  splendor  fills  all  space  witli  rays  divine. 

Thou  art,  and  wast,  and  shalt  be  glorious  !  great ! 
Life-giving,  life-sustaining  Potentate ! 

4.  Thy  chains  the  unmeasured  Universe  surround ; 

Upheld  by  Thee,  by  Thee  inspired  with  breath  1 
Thou  the  beginning  with  the  end  hast  bound, 

And  beautifully  mingled  life  and  death ! 
As  sparks  mount  upward  from  the  fiery  blaze. 

So  suns  are  born,  so  worlds  spring  forth  from  Thee ; 
And,  as  the  spangles,  in  the  sunny  rays. 

Shine  round  the  silvery  snow,  the  pageantry 
Of  Heaven's  bright  army  glitters  in  Thy  praise. 

6.  A  million  torches,  lighted  by  Thy  hand. 

Wander  unwearied  through  the  blue  abyss ; 
They  own  Thy  power,  accomplish  thy  command, 

All  gay  with  life,  all  eloquent  with  bliss. 
What  shall  we  call  them  ?     Piles  of  crystal  light  ? 

A  glorious  company  of  golden  streams  ? 
Lamps  of  celestial  ether  burning  bright  ? 

Suns  lighting  systems  with  their  joyous  beams  ? 
But  Thou  to  these  art  as  the  day  to  night. 
6.  Yes !  as  a  drop  of  water  in  the  sea. 

All  this  magnificence  in  Thee  is  lost : — 
What  are  ten  thousand  worlds  compared  to  Thee  ? 

And  what  am  /,  then  ?     Heaven's  unnumbered  host, 
Though  multiplied  by  myriads,  and  arrayed 

In  all  the  glory  of  sublimest  thought, 
Is  but  an  atom  in  the  balance  weighed 

Against  Thy  greatness, — is  a  cipher  brought 

Against  infinity  !     What  am  I,  then  ? — naught  ! 
Y.  Nought !  but  the  effluence  of  Thy  light  divine, 

Pervading  worlds,  hath  reached  my  bosom,  too  ; 
Yes  !  in  my  spirit  doth  Thy  Spirit  shine, 

As  shines  the  sun-beam  in  a  drop  of  dew. 
Naught !  but  I  live,  and  on  hope's  pinions  fly, 

Eager  toward  Thy  presence  ;  for  in  Tliee 


164:  SANDERS'      FEW      SERIES. 

I  live,  and  breathe,  and  dwell ;  aspiring  high, 
Even  to  the  throne  of  Thy  Divinity. 
I  am,  O  God  !  and  surely  Thou  must  be ! 

8.  Thou  art !  directing,  guiding  all,  Thou  art ! 

Direct  my  understanding  then  to  Thee  ; 
Control  my  spirit,  guide  my  wandering  heart ; 

Though  but  an  atom  'midst  immensity, 
Still  I  am  something,  fashioned  by  Thy  hand  ! 

I  hold  a  middle  rank  'twixt  heaven  and  earth, 
On  the  last  verge  of  mortal  being  stand. 

Close  to  the  realms  where  angels  have  their  birth, 
Just  on  the  boundaries  of  the  spirit-land  ! 

9.  The  chain  of  being  is  complete  in  me  ; 

In  me  is  matter's  last  gradation  lost. 
And  the  next  step  is  spirit — Deity  ! 

I  can  command  the  lightning,  and  am  dust ! 
A  monarch,  and  a  slave  ;  a  worm,  a  god ! 

Whence  came  I  here,  and  how  ?  so  marvelously 
Constructed  and  conceived  ?     Unknown  !     This  clod 

Lives  surely  through  some  higher  energy ; 

For  from  itself  alone  it  could  not  be. 

10.  Creator  !     Yes !     Thy  wisdom  and  Thy  word 
Created  me  !     Thou  source  of  life  and  good  ! 

Thou  Spirit  of  my  spirit,  and  my  Lord  ! 

Thy  light.  Thy  love,  in  their  bright  plenitude 

Filled  me  with  an  immortal  soul,  to  spring 
Over  the  abyss  of  death,  and  bade  it  wear 

The  garments  of  eternal  day,  and  wing 

Its  heavenly  flight  beyond  this  little  sphere, 
Even  to  its  source — to  Thee — its  Author  there. 

11.0  thought  ineffable  !  O  vision  blest ! 

Though  worthless  our  conceptions  all  of  Thee, 
Yet  shall  Thy  shadowed  image  fill  our  breast, 

And  waft  its  homage  to  the  Deity. 
God  !  thus  above  my  lowly  thoughts  can  soar ; 

Thus  seek  Thy  presence — Being  wise  and  good ; 


FIFTU    BOOK.  165 

'Midst  Thy  vast  works,  admire,  obey,  adore ; 
And  wlien  the  tongue  is  eloquent  no  more, 
The  soul  shall  speak  in  tears  of  gratitude. 


•  «  ♦• 


LESSON    XLIV* 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Pla'  to,  a  great  Athenian  philosopher,  was 
born  465  years  before  Christ.  He  was  for  eight  years  a  i3upil  of  Socrates, 
and  wrote  a  faithful  account  of  that  great  philosopher's  acts  and  sayings. 

2.  Soo'  ra  tes,  the  most  celebrated  philosopher  of  antiquity,  was  a  son 
of  SoPHRONiscus,  a  sculptor.  He  was  born  470  years  before  Christ.  The 
purity  of  his  doctrines,  and  his  independence  of  character,  rendered  him 
popular  with  the  most  enlightened  Athenians,  though  they  created  him 
many  enemies,  by  whom  he  was  falsely  accused,  and  was  arraigned  and 
condemned  to  drink  hemlock,  the  juice  of  a  poisonous  plant.  With  cheer- 
fulness he  continued  to  instruct  his  pupils  and  his  ai'dent  friends  who  at- 
tended him,  particularly  urging  the  doctrine  of  the  soul's  immortality,  till 
the  moment  of  his  death.  When  the  hour  to  drink  the  poison  had  come, 
the  executioner  handed  him  the  cup  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  Socrates  re- 
ceived it  with  composure,  drank  it  witli  an  unaltered  countenance,  and  in 
a  few  moments  expired. 

3.  A  Ris  Ti'  DES  was  an  Athenian,  whose  great  temperance  and  virtue 
procured  for  him  the  title  of  Jmt. 

MAJESTY    AND    SUPREMACY    OF    THE    SCRIPTURES 
CONFESSED    BY    A    SKEPTIC. 

KOUSSEAU. 

1.  I  WILL  confess  that  the  majesty  of  the  Scriptures  strikes 
me  with  admiration,  as  the  purity  of  the  Gospel  hath  its  in- 
fluence on  my  heart.  Peruse  the  works  of  our  philosophers 
with  all  their  pomp  of  diction.  How  mean,  how  contemptible 
are  they,  compared  with  the  Scriptures !  Is  it  possible  that  a 
book,  at  once  so  simple  and  sublime,  should  be  merely  the 
work  of  man  ?  Is  it  possible  that  the  sacred  personage, 
whose  history  it  contains,  should  be  himself  a  mere  man  ?  Do 
we  find  that  he  assumed  the  tone  of  an  enthusiast  or  ambi- 
tious sectary  ? 

2.  What  sweetness,  what  purity  in  his  manner !  What  an 
aftecting  gracefulness  in  his  delivery  !  "Wliat  sublimity  in  his 
maxims  !  What  profound  wisdom  in  his  discourses  !  What 
presence  of  mind,  what  subtlety,  what  truth  in  his  replies  ! — 


166  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

How  great  the  command  over  Lis  passions !  Where  is  the 
man,  where  the  philosopher,  who  could  so  live,  and  so  die. 
•without  weakness,  and  without  ostentation  ?  When  Plato'  de- 
scribed his  imaginary  good  man,  loaded  with  all  the  shame  of 
guilt,  yet  meriting  the  highest  rewards  of  virtue,  he  describes 
exactly  the  character  of  Jesus  Christ.    " 

3.  What  prepossession,  what  blindness  must  it  be,  to  com- 
pare the  son  of  Sophroniscus"  to  the  son  of  Mary  !  What  aq 
infinite  disproportion  there  is  between  them  !  Socrates'*,  dy- 
ing without  pain  or  ignominy,  easily  supported  his  character  to 
the  last ;  and  if  his  death,  however  easy,  had  not  crowned  his 
life,  it  might  have  been  doubted  whether  Socrates,  with  all  his 
wisdom,  was  any  thing  more  than  a  vain  sophist.  He  invented, 
it  is  said,  the  theory  of  morals.  Others,  however,  had  before 
put  them  in  practice  ;  he  had  only  to  say,  therefore,  what  they 
had  done,  and  reduce  their  examples  to  precepts. 

4.  Aristides^  had  been  just  before  Socrates  defined  just- 
ice ;  Leonidas  had  given  up  his  life  for  his  country,  before 
Socrates  declared  patriotism  to  be  a  duty ;  the  Spartans 
were  a  sober  people,  before  Socrates  recommended  sobriety ; 
before  he  had  even  defined  virtue,  Greece  abounded  in  virtu- 
ous men.  But  where  could  Jesus  learn,  among  his  competitors, 
that  pure  and  sublime  morality,  of  which  he  only  hath  given 
us  both  precept  and  example  ?  The  greatest  wisdom  was 
made  known  among  the  most  bigoted  fanaticism,  and  the  sim- 
plicity of  the  most  herioc  virtues,  did  honor  to  the  vilest  peo- 
ple on  earth. 

5.  The  death  of  Socrates,  peaceably  philosophizing  with  his 
friends,  appears  the  most  agreeable  that  could  be  wished  for ; 
that  of  Jesus,  expiring  in  the  midst  of  agonizing  pains,  abused, 
insulted,  and  accused  by  a  whole  nation,  is  the  most  horrible 
that  could  be  feared.  Socrates,  in  receiving  the  cup  of  poison, 
blessed  indeed  the  weeping  executioner  who  administered  it; 
but  Jesus,  in  the  midst  of  excruciating  torments,  prayed  for  his 
merciless  tormentors.  Yes,  if  the  life  and  death  of  Socrates 
were  those  of  a  sage,  the  life  and  death  of  Jesus  are  those  of 
a  God. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  167 

6.  Sliall  we  suppose  the  evangelic  history  a  mere  fiction  ? 
Indeed,  it  bears  not  the  marks  of  fiction  ;  on  the  contrary,  the 
history  of  Socrates,  which  nobody  presumes  to  doubt,  is  not 
so  well  attested  as  that  of  Jesus  Christ.  Such  a  supposition, 
in  fact,  only  shifts  the  diflficulty  without  obviating  it ; — it  is 
more  inconceivable  that  a  number  of  persons  should  agree  to 
write  such  a  history,  than  that  one  only  should  furnish  the 
subject  of  it.  The  Jewish  authors  were  incapable  of  the  dic- 
tion, and  strangers  to  the  morality  contained  in  the  Gospel, 
the  marks  of  whose  truth  are  so  striking  and  inimitable,  thai 
the  inventor  would  be  a  more  astonishing  character  than  the 
hero. 


LESSON   XLV* 

Explanatory  Notb. — 1.  Fran'  cis  Ba'  con  was  a  great  reformer  of 
philosophy,  by  fouuding  it  on  the  observation  of  nature,  after  it  had  con- 
sisted, for  many  centuries,  to  a  great  extent,  of  scholastic  subtilities.  He 
was  bom  in  1651. 

ESTIMATION   OF   THE   BIBLE   BY   THE   WISEST   PHILOSO- 
PHERS AND   STATESMEN. 

pmLLIPS. 

1.  I  AM  willing  to  abide  by  the  precepts,  admire  the  beauty, 
revere  the  mysteries,  and,  as  far  as  in  me  lies,  practice  the 
mandates  of  this  sacred  volume  ;  and  should  the  ridicule  of 
earth  assail  me,  I  shall  console  myself  by  the  contemplation  of 
those  blessed  spirits,  who,  in  the  same  holy  cause,  have  toiled, 
and  shone,  and  suftered. 

2,  If  I  err  with  the  luminaries  I  have  chosen  for  my  guides, 
I  confess  myself  captivated  by  the  loveliness  of  their  aberra- 
tions. If  they  err,  it  is  in  a  heavenly  region  ;  if  they  wander, 
it  is  in  fields  of  light ;  if  they  aspire,  it  is,  at  all  events,  a  glo- 
rious daring ;  and  rather  than  sink  with  infidelity  into  the  dust, 
I  am  content  to  cheat  myself  with  their  vision  of  eternity. 
If,  indeed,  it  be  nothing  but  delusion,  I  err  with  the  disciples 
of  philosophy  and  virtue — with  men  who  have  drank  deep  at 
the  fountain  of  human  knowledge,  but  who  dissolved  not  the 
pearl  of  their  salvation  in  the  draught. 


168  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

3.  I  err  with  the  great  Bacon' — the  great  confident  of  na- 
ture, fraught  with  all  the  learning  of  the  past,  and  almost 
prescient  of  the  future  ;  yet  too  wise  not  to  know  his  weak- 
ness, and  too  philosophic  not  to  feel  his  ignorance.  I  err  with 
Milton,  rising  on  an  angel's  wing  to  Heaven,  and,  like  the  bird 
of  morn,  soaring  out  of  sight,  amid  the  music  of  his  grateful 
piety. 

4.  I  err  with  Locke,  whose  pure  philosophy  only  taught 
him  to  adore  its  Source,  whose  warm  love  of  genuine  liberty 
was  never  chilled  into  rebellion  with  its  Author.  I  err  with 
Newton,  whose  star-like  spirit  shot  athwart  the  darkness  of 
the  spheres,  too  soon  to  re-ascend  to  the  home  of  its  nativity. 
With  men  like  these,  I  shall  ever  remain  in  error. 


-»>  ♦  «« 


LESSON  XLYU 

CONDITION   OF   THE   WORLD   WITHOUT   THE   BIBLE. 

MELVILLE. 

1.  Of  all  the  boons  which  God  has  bestowed  on  this  apos- 
tate and  orphaned  creation,  the  Bible  is  the  noblest  and  most 
precious.  We  bring  not  into  comparison  with  this  illustrious 
donation  the  glorious  sun-light,  nor  the  rich  sustenance  which 
is  poured  forth  from  the  store-houses  of  the  earth,  nor  that 
existence  itself  which  allows  us,  though  dust,  to  soar  into  com- 
panionship with  angels.  The  Bible  is  the  development  of 
man's  immortality, — the  guide  which  informs  how  he  may 
pass  off  triumphantly  from  a  contracted  and  temporary  scene, 
and  grasp  destinies  of  unbounded  splendor, — eternity  his  life- 
tirne,  and  infinity  his  home. 

2.  It  is  the  record  which  tells  us  that  this  rebellious  section 
of  God's  unlimited  empire,  is  not  excluded  from  our  Maker's 
compassions,  but  that  the  creatures  who  move  upon  its  sur- 
face, though  they  have  basely  sepulchered  in  sinfulness  and 
corruption  the  magnificence  of  their  nature,  are  yet  so  dear  in 
their  ruin  to  Ilim  who  first  formed  them,  that  He  hath  bowed 
down  the  heavens  in  order  to  open  their  graves.  Oh  !  you 
have  only  to  think  what  a  change  would  pass  on  the  aspect  of 


FIFTH     BOOK.  169 

«ur  race,  if  the  Bible  were  suddenly  witlidrawn,  and  all  re- 
membrance of  it  swept  awajr,  and  you  arrive  at  some  faint  no- 
tion of  the  worth  of  the  volume. 

3.  Take  from  Christendom  the  Bible,  and  you  have  taken 
the  moral  chart,  by  which  its  population  can  be  guided.  Ig- 
norant of  the  nature  of  God,  and  only  guessing  at  their  own 
immortality,  the  tens  of  thousands  would  be  as  mariners,  tossed 
on  a  wide  ocean,  withoilt  a  pole-star,  and  without  a  compass. 
The  blue  lights  of  the  storm-fiend  would  burn  ever  in  the 
shrouds ;  and  when  the  tornado  of  death  rushed  across  the 
waters,  there  would  be  heard  nothing  but  the  shrieks  of  the 
terrified,  and  the  groans  of  the  despairing. 

4.  It  were  to  mantle  the  earth  in  more  than  Egyptian  dark- 
ness ;  it  were  to  dry  up  the  fountains  of  human  happiness ;  it 
were  to  take  the  tides  from  our  waters,  and  leave  them  stag- 
nant, and  the  stars  from  our  heavens,  and  leave  them  in  sack- 
cloth, and  the  verdure  from  our  valleys,  and  leave  them  in  bar- 
renness ;  it  were  to  make  the  present  all  recklessness,  and  the 
future  all  hopelessness — the  maniac's  revelry,  and  the  fiend's 
imprisonment, — if  you  could  annihilate  that  precious  volume 
which  tells  us  of  God  and  of  Christ,  and  unvails  immortality, 
and  instructs  in  duty,  and  woos  to  glory.  Such  is  the  Bible. 
Prize  it,  as  ye  are  immortal  beings ;  for  it  guides  to  the  New- 
Jerusalem.  Prize  it,  as  ye  are  intellectual  beings ;  for  it 
"  giveth  understanding  to  the  simple." 


»« ♦ «» 


LESSON  XLVIU 

HAPPY    FKEEDOM    OF    THE    MAN    WHOM    TRUTH    MAKES 

FREE. 

COWPER. 

1.  He  is  the  freeman,  whom  the  truth  makes  free, 
And  all  are  slaves  besides.     There's  not  a  chain, 
That  fiendish  foes,  confederate  for  his  harm. 
Can  wind  around  him,  but  he  casts  it  off". 
With  as  much  ease  as  Samson  his  green  withes. 
He  looks  abroad  into  the  varied  field 

8 


170  SAN  dees'    new    sekies. 

Of  nature,  and  thougli  poor,  perhaps,  compared 
With  those  whose  mansions  glitter  in  his  sight, 
Calls  the  delightful  scenery  all  his  own. 

2.  His  are  the  mountains,  and  the  vallej^s  his, 
And  the  resplendent  rivers.  His  to  enjoy 
With  a  propriety  that  none  can  feel. 

But  who,  with  filial  confidence  inspired. 
Can  lift  to  Heaven  an  unpresumptuous  eye. 
And  smiling,  say,  "  My  Father  made  them  all  1" 

3.  He  is  indeed  a  freeman.     Free  by  birth 
Of  no  mean  city ;  planned  or  ere  the  hills 
Were  built,  the  fountains  opened,  or  the  sea 
With  all  his  roaring  multitude  of  waves. 
His  freedom  is  the  same  in  every  state ; 
And  no  condition  of  this  changeful  life, 

So  manifold  in  cares,  whose  every  day 
Brings  its  own  evil  with  it,  makes  it  less ; 
For  he  has  wings  that  neither  sickness,  pain, 
Nor  penury,  can  cripple  or  confine. 

4.  No  nook  so  narrow  but  he  spreads  them  there 
With  ease,  and  is  at  large.     Th'  oppressor  holds 
His  body  bound  ;  but  knows  not  what  a  range 
His  spirit  takes  unconscious  of  a  chain  ; 

And  that  to  bind  him  is  a  vain  attempt, 
Whom  God  delights  in,  and  in  whom  He  dwells. 

5.  Acquaint  thyself  with  God,  if  thou  wouldst  taste 
His  works.     Admitted  once  to  His  embrace, 
Thou  shalt  perceive  that  thou  wast  blind  before. 
Thine  eye  shall  be  instructed,  and  thy  heart. 
Made  pure,  shall  relish  with  divine  delight 

Till  then  unfelt,  what  hands  divine  have  wrought. 

6.  So  reads  he  nature,  whom  the  lamp  of  truth 
Illuminates, — Thy  lamp,  mysterious  Word ! 
Which  whoso  sees,  no  longer  wanders  lost. 
With  intellect  bemazed  in  endless  doubt ; 


FIFTH     BOOK.  171 

But  runs  the  road  of  wisdom.     Thou  hast  built 
With  means,  that  were  not  till  by  Thee  employed, 
Worlds,  that  had  never  been,  hadst  Thou  in  strength 
Been  less,  or  less  benevolent  than  strong. 

7.  They  are  Thy  witnesses  who  speak  Thy  power 
And  goodness  infinite,  but  speak  in  ears 
That  hear  not,  or  receive  not  their  report. 

In  vain  Thy  creatures  testify  of  Thee, 
Till  Thou  proclaim  Thyself.     Theirs  is  indeed 
A  teaching  voice  ;  but  'tis  the  praise  of  Thine, 
That  whom  it  teaches  it  makes  prompt  to  learn, 
And,  with  the  boon,  gives  talents  for  its  use. 

8.  Then  we  are  free.     Then  liberty,  like  day, 
Breaks  on  the  soul,  and,  by  a  flash  from  Heaven, 
Fires  all  the  faculties  with  glorious  joy. 

A  voice  is  heard,  that  mortal  ears  hear  not, 
Till  Thou  hast  touched  them  ;  'tis  the  voice  of  song, 
A  loud  Hosanna  sent  from  all  Thy  works ; 
AVhich  he  that  hears  it,  with  a  shout  repeats, 
And  adds  his  rapture  to  the  general  praise. 

9.  In  that  blest  moment,  Nature,  throw-ing  wide 
Her  vail  opaque,  discloses,  with  a  smile, 
The  Author  of  her  beauties,  who,  retired 
Behind  His  own  creation,  works,  unseen 

By  the  impure,  and  hears  His  power  denied. 
Thou  art  the  source  and  center  of  all  minds, — 
Their  only  point  of  rest.  Eternal  Word ! 
From  Thee  departing,  they  are  lost,  and  rove 
At  random,  without  honor,  hope,  or  peace. 
10.  From  Thee  is  all  that  soothes  the  life  of  man. 
His  high  endeavor,  and  his  glad  success, 
His  strength  to  suffer,  and  his  will  to  serve. 
But  0  thou  bounteous  Giver  of  all  good ! 
Thou  art,  of  all  Thy  gifts,  Thyself  the  crown  ! 
Give  what  tliou  canst,  without  Thee  we  are  poor ; 
And,  with  Thee  rich,  take  what  Thou  wilt  away. 


172  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON  XLVnU 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Di'  ves  is  a  Latin  word  meaning  rich.  It 
is  used  as  a  name  and  applied  to  the  rich  man,  referred  to  in  tlie  16th 
chapter  of  Luke. 

2.  Ti'BE,  one  of  the  most  celebrated  cities  of  antiquity,  was  for  a  long 
time  considered  the  emporium  of  commerce.  It  was  in  its  most  flourish- 
ing state  about  500  years  before  Christ.  It  was  situated  on  an  island 
near  the  eastern  shore  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea,  which  was  joined  by 
Alexander  to  the  main  land  by  a  mole  or  mound,  by  means  of  which  ho 
took  the  city  after  a  siege  of  seven  months.  It  was  surrounded  by  a  waU 
150  feet  high,  and  of  proportionate  width.  Its  palaces  are  now  sup- 
planted by  miserable  hovels,  though  rehcs  of  its  ancient  splendor  are 
everywhere  still  seen,  and  the  poor  fisherman  now  inhabits  those  cellars 
where  were  once  stored  the  treasures  of  the  world. 

3.  E'  DOM,  or  Id  u  me'  a,  is  a  country  including  the  south  of  Palestine. 
•  4.  Mu  Ez'  ziN,  in  Mohammedan  countries,  is  the  public  crier  who  an- 
nounces the  hours  of  prayer  from  the  minaret.  Five  prayers  are  repeated 
daily. 

5.  Kle'beb  was  a  French  general,  distinguished  not  less  for  his  human- 
ity and  integrity,  than  for  his  courage,  activity,  and  coolness. 

6.  Mu  rat'  was  a  French  general,  distinguished  more  for  his  daring 
courage  and  impetuosity,  than  for  his  sagacity  and  strength  of  mind. 

MOUNT   TABOR. 

J.   T.   HEADLEY. 

1.  What  strange  contrasts  this  earth  of  ours  presents! 
Noonday  and  midnight  are  not  more  opposite  than  the  scenes 
that  are  constantly  passing  before  our  eyes.  Truth  and  false- 
hood walk,  side  by  side,  through  our  streets,  and  vice  and  virtue 
meet  and  pass  every  hour  of  the  day.  The  hut  of  the  starv- 
ing stands  in  the  shadow  of  the  palace  of  the  wealthy,  and  the 
carriage  of  Dives'  every  day  throws  the  dust  of  its  glittering 
wheels  over  the  tattered  garments  of  Lazarus. 

2.  Health  and  sickness  lie  down  in  the  same  apartment ; 
joy  and  grief  look  out  of  the  same  window ;  and  hope  and  de- 
spair dwell  under  the  same  roof.  The  cry  of  the  infant,  and 
the  groan  of  the  dying,  rise  together  from  the  same  dwelling ; 
the  funeral  procession  treads  close  on  the  heels  of  the  bridal 
party,  and  the  tones  of  the  lute  and  viol,  have  scarcely  died 
away,  before  the  requiem  for  the  dead  comes  swelling  after. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  173 

Oh!  tlie  beautiful  and  deformed,  the  pure  and  corrupt,  joy 
and  sorrow,  ecstasies  and  agonies,  life  and  death,  are  strangely 
blended  on  this  our  restless  planet. 

3.  What  different  events  have  transpired  on  the  same  spot! 
Where  the  smoke  of  the  Indian's  wigwam  arose,  and  the 
stealthy  tread  of  the  wolf  and  panther  was  heard  over  the 
autumn  leaves  at  twilight,  the  population  of  New  York  now 
surges  along.  Where  once  Tyre,^  the  queen  of  the  sea,  stood, 
fishermen  are  spreading  their  nets  on  the  desolate  rocks,  and  the 
bright  waves  are  rolling  over  its  marble  columns.  In  the  empty 
apartments  of  Edom,'  the  fox  makes  his  den,  and  the  dust  of 
the  desert  is  sifting  over  the  forsaken  ruins  of  Palmyra. 

4.  The  owl  hoots  in  the  ancient  halls  of  kings,  and  the  wind 
of  the  summer  night  makes  sad  music  through  the  rents  of 
the  once  gorgeous  palaces.  The  Arab  spurs  his  steed  along 
the  streets  of  ancient  Jerusalem,  or  scornfully  stands  and  curls 
his  lip  at  the  pilgrim  pressing  wearily  to  the  sepulcher  of  the 
Savior.  The  Muezzin's*  voice  rings  over  the  bones  of  the  pro- 
phets, and  the  desert  wind  heaps  the  dust  above  the  founda- 
tions of  the  seven  churches  of  Asia.  O,  how  good  and  evil, 
light  and  darkness,  chase  each  other  over  the  world ! 

5.  Forty-seven  years  ago,  a  form  was  seen  standing  on 
Mount  Tabor,  with  which  the  world  has  since  become  familiar. 
It  was  a  bright  spring  morning,  and  as  he  sat  on  his  steed  in 
the  clear  sunlight,  his  eye  rested  on  a  scene  in  the  vale  below, 
which  was  sublime  and  apalling  enough  to  quicken  the  pulsa- 
tions of  the  calmest  heart.  That  form  was  Napoleon  Bona' 
PARTE ;  and  the  scene  before  him,  the  fierce  and  terrible  "  Bat- 
tle OF  Mount  Tabor." 

6.  From  Nazareth,  where  the  Savior  once  trod,  Kleber^  had 
marched  with  three  thousand  French  soldiers  forth  into  the 
plain,  when  lo !  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Tabor,  he  saw  the  whole 
Turkish  army,  drawn  up  in  order  of  battle.  Fifteen  thousand 
infantry  and  twelve  thousand  splendid  cavalry  moved  down  iu 
majestic  strength  on  this  baud  of  three  thousand  French.  Kle- 
ber  had  scarcely  time  to  throw  his  handful  of  men  into  squares, 
with  the  cannon  at  the  angles,  before  those  twelve  thousand 


174  SANDERS'     NEW      SERIES. 

horse,  making  tlie  earth  smoke  and  thunder   as  they  came, 
burst  in  a  headlong  gallop  upon  them. 

Y.  But  round  those  steady  squares  rolled  a  fierce  devouring 
fire,  emptying  the  saddles  of  those  wild  horsemen  with  fright- 
ful rapidity,  and  strewing  the  earth  with  the  bodies  of  riders 
and  steeds  together.  Again  and  again,  did  those  splendid 
squadrons  wheel,  re-form  and  charge  with  deafening  shouts, 
while  their  uplifted  and  flashing  cimeters  gleamed,  like  a  forest 
of  steel,  through  the  smoke  of  battle  ;  but  that  same  wasting 
fire  received  them,  till  those  squares  seemed  bound  by  a  girdle 
of  flame,  so  rapid  and  constant  were  the  discharges. 

8.  Before  their  certain  and  deadly  aim,  as  they  stood  fight 
ing  for  existence,  the  charging  squadrons  fell  so  fast  that  a 
rampart  of  dead  bodies  was  soon  formed  around  them.  Be- 
hind this  embankment  of  dead  men  and  horses,  this  band  of 
warriors  stood  and  fought  for  six  dreadful  hours,  and  was  still 
steadily  thinning  the  ranks  of  the  enemy,  when  Napoleon  de- 
bouched with  a  single  division  on  Mount  Tabor,  and  turned 
his  eye  below. 

9.  What  a  scene  met  his  gaze  !  The  whole  plain  was  filled 
with  marching  columns  and  charging  squadrons  of  wildly  gal- 
loping steeds,  Avhile  the  thunder  of  cannon  and  fierce  rattle  of 
musketry,  amid  which,  now  and  then,  was  heard  the  blast  of 
thousands  of  trumpets,  and  strains  of  martial  music  filled  the 
air.  The  smoke  of  battle  was  rolling  furiously  over  the  hosts, 
and  all  was  confusion  and  chaos  in  his  sight. 

10.  Amid  the  twenty-seven  thousand  Turks  that  crowded 
the  plain,  and  enveloped  their  enemy  like  a  cloud,  and  amid 
the  incessant  discharge  of  artillery  and  musketry.  Napoleon 
could  tell  where  his  own  brave  troops  were  struggling,  only  by 
the  steady  simultaneous  volleys  which  showed  how  discipline 
was  contending  with  the  wild  valor  of  overpowering  numbers. 
The  constant  flashes  from  behind  that  rampart  of  dead  bodies, 
were  like  spots  of  flame  on  the  tumultuous  and  chaotic  field. 

11.  Napoleon  descended  from  Mount  Tabor  with  his  little 
band,  while  a  single  twelve-pounder,  fired  from  the  bights, 
told  the  wearied  Kleber  that  he  was  rushing  to  the  rescue. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  175 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  he  took  the  offensive,  and,  pouring  his 
enthusiastic  followers  on  the  foe,  carried  death  and  terror  over 
the  field.  Thrown  into  confusion,  and  trampled  under  foot, 
that  mighty  army  rolled  turbulently  back  toward  the  Jordan, 
where  Murat'  was  anxiously  waiting  to  mingle  in  the  fight. 

12.  Dashing  with  his  cavalry  among  the  disordered  ranks, 
he  sabered  them  down  without  mercy,  and  raged  like  a  lion 
amid  the  prey.  This  chivalric  and  romantic  warrior  declared 
that  the  remembrance  of  the  scenes  that  once  transpired  on 
Mount  Tabor,  and  on  these  thrice  consecrated  spots,  came  to  him 
in  the  hottest  of  the  fi<2:ht,  and  nerved  him  with  ten-fold  courasre. 

13.  As  the  sun  went  down  over  the  plains  of  Palestine,  and 
twilight  shed  its  dim  ray  over  the  rent,  and  trodden,  and  dead- 
covered  field,  a  sulphurous  cloud  hung  around  the  summit  of 
Mount  Tabor.  The  smoke  of  battle  had  settled  there,  where 
once  the  cloud  of  glory  rested,  while  groans,  and  shrieks,  and 
cries,  rent  the  air.  Nazareth,  Jordan,  and  Mount  Tabor !  what 
spots  for  battle-fields  ! 


LESSON  XLIX* 

Explanatory  Note. — 1.  Es'  drae  lon  is  a  plain  of  Palestine,  often 
mentioned  in  sacred  history.  It  has  been,  from  the  earliest  history,  often 
the  scene  of  bloody  conflicts.     It  is  situated  south  of  the  plata  of  Galilee. 

MOUNT    TABOR.— CoNTiNtJED. 

J.   T.   HEADLET. 

1.  Roll  back  eighteen  centuries,  and  again  view  that  Mount^ 
The  day  is  bright  and  beautiful,  as  on  the  day  of  battle,  and 
the  same  rich  oriental  landscape  is  smiling  in  the  same  sun. 
There  is  Nazareth,  with  its  busy  population, — the  same  Naz- 
areth, from  which  Kleber  marched  his  army  ;  and  there  is 
Jordan,  rolling  its  bright  waters  along, — the  same  Jordan, 
along  whose  banks  charged  the  glittering  squadrons  of  Murat's 
cavalry  ;  and  there  is  Mount  Tabor, — the  same,  on  which 
Bonaparte  stood  with  his  cannon ;  and  the  same  beautiful 
plain  where  rolled  the  smoke  of  battle,  and  struggled  thirty 
thousand  men  in  mortal  combat. 


176  SANDEKS'    KEW    SERIES. 

2.  But  how  different  is  the  scene  that  is  passing  there.  The 
Son  of  God  stands  on  that  hight,  and  casts  his  eye  over  the 
quiet  valley,  through  which  Jordan  winds  its  silvery  current. 
Three  friends  are  beside  him.  ITiey  have  walked  together  up 
the  toilsome  way,  and  now  they  stand,  mere  specks  on  the 
distant  summit.  Far  away  to  the  north-west,  shines  the  blue 
Mediterranean, — all  around  is  the  great  plain  of  Esdraelon'  and 
Galilee, — eastward  the  lake  of  Tiberias  dots  the  landscape, 
while  Mount  Carrael  lifts  its  naked  summit  in  the  distance. 

3.  But  the  glorious  landscape  at  their  feet  is  forgotten  in  a 
sublimer  scene  that  is  passing  before  them.  The  son  of  Mary 
— the  carpenter  of  Nazareth — the  wanderer,  with  whom  they 
have  traveled  on  foot  many  a  weary  league,  in  all  the  intimacy 
of  companions  and  friends,  begins  to  change  before  their  eyes.* 
Over  his  garments  is  spreading  a  strange  light,  steadily  bright- 
ening into  intenser  beauty,  till  that  form  glows  with  such 
splendor  that  it  seems  to  waver  to  and  fro,  and  dissolve  in  the 
still  radiance. 

4.  The  three  astonished  friends  gaze  on  it  in  speechless  ad- 
miration, then  turn  to  that  familiar  face.  But  lo  !  a  greater 
change  has  passed  over  it.  That  sad  and  solemn  countenance 
which  has  been  so  often  seen  stooping  over  the  couch  of  the 
dying,  entering  the  door  of  the  hut  of  poverty,  passing  through 
the  streets  of  Jerusalem,  and  pausing  by  the  weary  way-side 
— ay,  bedewed  with  the  tears  of  pity, — now  burns  like  the 
sun  in  his  mid-day  splendor.  Meekness  has  given  way  to 
majesty, — sadness,  to  dazzling  glory, — the  look  of  pity,  to  the 
grandeur  of  a  God. 

5.  The  still  radiance  of  Heaven  sits  on  that  serene  brow, 
and,  all  around  that  divine  form,  flows  an  atmosphere  of  strange 
and  wondrous  beauty.  Heaven  has  poured  its  brightness  over 
that  consecrated  spot,  and,  on  the  beams  of  light  which  glitter 
there,  Moses  and  Elias  have  descended,  and,  wrapped  in  the 
same  shining  vestments,  stand  beside  him.  Wonder  follows 
wonder ;  for  those  three  glittering  forms  are  talking  with  each 
other,  and,  amid  the  thrilling  accents  are  heard  the  words, 

*  Read  the  11th.  Chapter  of  Matthew. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  177 

"  Mount  Olivet,"  «  Calvary  !"— "  the  agony  and  the  death  of 
the  crucifixion  !" 

6.  No  wonder  a  sudden  fear  came  over  Peter,  that  paralyzed 
his  tongue,  and  crushed  him  to  the  earth,  when,  in  the  midst 
of  his  speech,  he  saw  a  cloud  descend  like  a  falling  star  from 
heaven,  and,  bright  and  dazzling,  balance  itself  over  those 
forms  of  light,  while  from  its  bright  foldings  came  a  voice, 
saying : — "  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased ; 
hear  ye  him  !" 

7.  How  long  the  vision  lasted  we  can  not  tell ;  but  all  that 
night  did  Jesus,  with  his  friends,  stay  on  that  lonely  mountain. 
Of  the  conversation  that  passed  between  them  there,  we  know 
nothing ;  but  little  sleep,  we  imagine,  visited  their  eyes  that 
night ;  and  as  they  sat  on  the  high  summit,  and  watched  the 
stars,  as  they  rose  one  after  another  above  the  horizon,  and 
gazed  on  the  moon  as  she  poured  her  light  over  the  dim  and 
darkened  landscape,  words  were  spoken,  that  seemed  born  of 
Heaven,  and  truths  never  to  be  forgotten  were  uttered  in  the 
ears  of  the  subdued  and  reverent  disciples. 

8.  O  how  different  is  Heaven  and  earth  !  Can  there  be  a 
stronger  contrast  than  the  Battle  and  Transfiguration  of 
Mount  Tabor  ?  One  shudders  to  think  of  Bonaparte  and  the 
Son  of  God  on  the  same  mountain, — one  with  his  wasting 
cannon  by  his  side,  and  the  other  with  Moses  and  Elias  just 
from  Heaven.  But  no  after  desecration  can  destroy  the  first 
consecration  of  Mount  Tabor  ;  for,  surrounded  with  the  glory 
of  Heaven,  and  honored  with  the  wondrous  scene  of  the 
Transfiguration,  it  stands  a  sacred  mountain  on  the  earth. 


LESSON   L* 
THE    BATTLE    FIELD. 


MRS.   HEMANS. 

1  LOOKED  on  the  field,  where  the  battle  was  spread. 
When  thousands  stood  forth  in  their  glancing  array ; 

And  the  beam  from  the  steel  of  the  valiant  was  shed 

Through  the  dun-rolling  clouds  that  o'ershadowed  the  fray. 


178  banders'   new    series. 

2.  I  saw  tlie  dark  forest  of  lances  appear, 

As  the  ears  of  the  harvest  unnumbered  they  stood, 
I  heard  the  stern  shout  as  the  foemen  drew  near. 

Like  the  storm  that  lays  low  the  proud  pines  of  the  wood. 

3.  Afar,  the  harsh  notes  of  the  war-drum  were  rolled, 

TJprousing  the  wolf  from  the  depth  of  his  lair ; 
On  high  to  the  gust  streamed  the  banner's  red  fold. 
O'er  the  death-close  of  hate,  and  the  scowl  of  despair. 

4.  I  looked  on  the  field  of  contention  again, 

When  the  saber  was  sheathed,  and  the  tempest  had  past; 
And  the  wild-weed  and  thistle  grew  rank  on  the  plain. 
And  the  fern  softly  sighed  in  the  low  wailing  blast. 

5.  Unmoved  lay  the  lake  in  its  hour  of  repose,  [blue  ; 

And  bright  shone  the  stars  through  the  sky's  deepened 

And  sweetly  the  song  of  the  night-bird  arose,  [dew. 

Where  the  fox-glove  lay  gemmed  with  its  pearl-drops  of 

6.  But  where  swept  the  ranks  of  that  dark  frowning  host. 

As  the  ocean  in  might, — as  the  storm-cloud  in  speed  ! 
Where  now  were  the  thunders  of  victory's  boast, — 

The  slayer's  dread  wrath,  and  the  strength  of  the  steed  ? 

7.  Not  a  time-wasted  cross, — not  a  moldering  stone, — 

To  mark  the  lone  scene  of  their  shame  or  their  pride  ; 
One  grass-covered  mound  told  the  traveler  alone. 

Where  thousands  lay  down  in  their  anguish,  and  died  ! 

8.  O  glory  !  behold  thy  famed  guerdon's  extent ; 

For  this,  toil  thy  slaves  through  their  earth-wasting  lot ; 
A  name  like  the  mist,  when  the  night-beams  are  spent, — 
A  grave  with  its  tenants  unwept  and  forgot. 


9.  What  is  glory  ?     What  is  fame  ? 
The  echo  of  a  long-lost  name  ; 
A  breath,  an  idle  hour's  brief  talk  ; 
The  shadow  of  an  arrant  naught ; 
A  flower  that  blossoms  for  a  day. 
Then  quickly  vanishes  away. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  179 

LESSON  LI* 

Note. — The  following  lines  were  written  when  the  author, 

"  The  marvelous  boy, 
The  sleepless  soul  that  perished  in  his  pride," 

was  onlj  eleven  years  of  age. 

HYMN    OF    PRAISE    TO    THE    CREATOR. 

THOMAS  CHATTEETON. 

1.  Almighty  Framer  of  the  skies, 
O,  let  our  pure  devotion  rise 

Like  incense  in  Thy  sight ! 
Wrapt  in  impenetrable  shade, 
The  texture  of  our  souls  was  made, 

Till  Thy  command  gave  light. 

2.  The  Sun  of  glory  gleamed,  the  ray 
Kefined  the  darkness  into  day, 

And  bid  the  vapors  fly. 
Impelled  by  His  eternal  love, 
He  left  His  palaces  above. 

To  cheer  our  gloomy  sky. 

3.  How  shall  we  celebrate  the  day, 
When  Christ  appeared  in  mortal  clay, 

The  mark  of  worldly  scorn  ? 
When  the  archangels'  heavenly  lays 
Attempted  the  Redeemer's  praise, 

And  hailed  Salvation's  morn? 

4.  A  humble  form  the  Savior  wore, 
The  pains  of  poverty  He  bore, 

To  gaudy  pomp  unknown  ; 
Thouofh  in  a  human  walk  he  trod. 
He  wrought  the  wonders  of  a  God, 

In  glory  all  His  own. 

6.  Despised,  oppressed,  He  meekly  bears 

The  torments  of  this  vale  of  tears, 

Nor  bids  His  vengeance  rise  : 


i 


180  SANDEKS'     NEW     SERIES. 

He  saw  the  sons  of  Adam's  race, 
Revile  His  power,  despise  Ms  grace,— 
He  saw  with  Mercy's  eyes. 


LESSON    LIU 

INFLUENCE    OF  EDUCATION    ON    THE    HUMAN 
INTELLECT. 

MELVILLE. 

1.  In  the  mind  of  many  a  peasant  whose  every  moment  is 
bestowed  on  wringing  from  the  soil  a  scanty  subsistence,  there 
slumber  powers  which,  had  they  been  evolved  by  early  disci- 
pline, would  have  elevated  their  possessor  to  the  first  rank  of 
philosophers ;  and  many  a  mechanic  who  goes  patiently  the 
round  of  unvaried  toil,  is  unconsciously  the  owner  of  faculties 
which,  nursed  and  expanded  by  education,  would  have  en- 
abled him  to  electrify  senates,  and  to  win  that  pre-eminence 
which  men  award  to  the  majesty  of  genius. 

2.  There  arise  occasions,  when,  peculiar  circumstances  aid- 
ing the  development,  the  pent-up  talent  struggles  loose  from 
the  trammels  of  poverty  ;  and  the  peasant,  through  a  sudden 
outbreak  of  mind,  starts  forward  to  the  place,  for  which  his  in- 
tellect fits  him.  But  ordinarily,  the  powers  remain  through 
life,  bound-up  and  torpid  ;  and  he,  therefore,  forms  but  a  con- 
tracted estimate  of  the  amount  of  high  mental  endowment,  who 
reckons  by  the  proud  marbles  which  cause  the  aisles  of  a 
cathedral  to  breathe  the  memory  of  departed  greatness,  and 
never  thinks,  when  walking  the  village  church-yard  with  its 
rude  memorials  of  the  fathers  of  the  valley,  that,  possibly, 
there  sleeps  beneath  his  feet  one  who,  if  early  taught,  might 
have  trod  with  a  Newton's  step  the  firmament,  or  swept  with 
Milton's  hand  the  harp-strings. 


3.  Ay  !  stand  erect !  nor  bend  thy  knee,  nor  bow  ; 
But  speak  thine  own  free  thoughts,  and,  with  an  eye, 
Bold  as  an  eagle's,  cleaving  the  bright  sky, 
Hold  upward  thy  proud  way  !     Oh  !  why  shouldst  thou, 


FIFTH     BOOK.  181 

Whose  iron  arm  hatli  made  the  mighty  world 
A  reahn  of  beauty,  and  subdued  the  wave, 
O'er  desert  vales  and  mountain  bights  unfurled 
The  flag  of  Hope,  why  shouldst  thou,  like  a  slave, 
Cringe  to  the  nod  of  Pride,  and  bend  thee  low, 
Even  to  the  soil  thy  hand  hath  taught  to  bloom 
As  a  fair  garden ;  wherefore  shouldst  thou  so 
Bend  down,  and  shut  thy  soul  as  in  a  tomb  ? 
O,  stand  erect !  throw  fetters  off,  and  ban, 
And  speak  thine  own  free  thoughts. — thou  art  a  Man  ! 

R.  S.  Andkos. 


LESSON   LHU 
HONOR  DUE   TO  ALL  MEN. 

CHALMERS. 

"  Honor  all  men — Honor  the  king." 

1.  To  HONOR  all  men,  is  alike  the  lesson  of  Philosophy  and 
Religion.  He  who  studies  humanity,  not  according  to  its  ac- 
cidental distinctions  in  soc'rty,  but  in  its  great  and  general 
characteristics, — he  who  looks  to  its  moral  nature,  as  a  piece 
of  curious  and  interesting  mechanism,  forgets  the  distinctions 
of  rank,  in  the  homage  which  he  renders  to  man,  simply  as 
the  possessor  of  a  constitution  that  has  so  often  exercised  and 
regaled  his  faculties  as  an  object  of  liberal  curiosity. 

2.  The  humblest  peasant  bears  within  himself,  that  very  tab- 
let, on  the  lines  and  characters  of  which  the  highest  philos- 
opher may,  for  years,  perhaps,  have  been  most  intensely  gazing. 
All  the  secrets  of  our  wondrous  economy,  are  deposited  there ; 
and,  in  the  heart  even  of  the  most  unlettered  man,  the  mem- 
ory, the  understanding,  the  imagination,  the  conscience,  and 
every  other  function  and  property  of  the  yet  inaccessible  soul, 
are  all  in  busy  operation.  To  the  owner  of  such  an  imexplora- 
ble  microcosm,  we  attach  somewhat  of  the  same  reverence 
which  we  entertain  for  some  profound  and  hidden  mystery. 

3.  To  think  that  each  individual  around  us  has  within  the 
precincts  of  his  own  bosom,  a  chamber  of  thoughts  and  pur- 


182  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

poses,  and  fond  imaginations  as  warm  and  teeming  as  our  own, 
— that  every  one  of  the  immense  multitude  is  the  center  of  his 
own  distinct  amphitheater,  which,  however  unknown  to  us,  is 
the  universe  to  him, — that  each  meditative  countenance  be- 
speaks a  play  of  hopes,  wishes,  and  interests  within,  in  every 
way  as  active  as  we  experience  in  ourselves, — and  to  think 
that  should  my  own  heart  cease  its  palpitations,  and  were  the 
light  of  my  own  wakeful  spirit  to  be  extinguished  forever,  that 
still  there  would  be  a  world  as  full  of  life  and  intelligence  as 
before, — there  is  a  humility  that  ought  to  be  impressed  by  such 
a  contemplation ;  or,  it  ought,  at  least,  to  exalt  our  reckoning 
of  all  men. 

4.  It  is  true,  that,  in  what  may  be  called  the  outward  mag- 
nitude of  these  interests,  there  is  a  wide  distance  between  a 
sovereign  and  his  subject, — between  the  cares  of  an  empire, 
and  the  cares  of  a  small  household  economy.  They  are  a  dif- 
ferent set  of  objects,  wherewith  the  monarch  is  conversant,  and 
that  keep  in  play  the  system  of  his  thoughts  and  emotions. 
But  as  the  peasant  is  like  him  in  respect  of  anatomy,  so,  with 
all  the  diversity  of  circumstances,  he  is  substantially  like  him 
in  the  frame  and  mechanism  of  his  spirit. 

5.  The  outward  causes,  by  which  each  is  excited,  are  vastly 
3i/ferent ;  but  the  inward  excitement  of  both  is  the  same ; 
and,  could  we  explore  the  little  world  that  is  in  each  of  the 
two  bosoms,  we  should  recognize  in  each  the  same  busy  rota- 
tion of  hopes  and  fears,  wishes  and  anxieties.  If  it  is,  indeed,  a 
just  calculation,  that  there  is  a  superiority,  a  surpassing  worth 
in  the  moral,  which  far  outweighs  the  material,  then,  let  the 
cottage  be  as  widely  dissimilar  from  the  palace  as  it  may 
there  is  a  similarity  between  their  inhabitants,  not  in  that 
which  is  minute,  but  in  that  which  is  momentous, — and  our 
weightiest  arguments  for  honoring  the  king,  bear  with  efBcacy 
upon  the  lesson,  to  "  honor  all  men." 

6.  Let  us  rate  the  importance  of  one  thinking  and  living 
spirit,  when  compared  with  all  the  mute  and  unconscious  ma- 
terialism which  is  in  our  universe.  Without  such  a  spirit  the 
whole  visible  existence  were  but  an  idle  waste — a  nothingness. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  183 

For  what  is  beauty,  were  there  no  eye  to  look  upon  it ;  and 
what  is  music,  were  there  no  ear  to  listen  ;  and  what  is  matter 
in  all  its  rich  and  wondrous  varieties,  without  a  spectator-mind 
to  be  regaled  by  the  contemplation  of  them  ?  One  might 
conceive  the  very  panorama  that  now  surrounds  us, — the  same 
earth,  and  sea,  and  skies,  that  we  now  look  upon, — the  same 
graces  on  the  face  of  terrestrial  nature, — the  same  rolling  won- 
ders in  the  firmament, — yet  without  one  spark  of  thought  or 
animation  throughout  the  unpeopled  amplitude.  This,  in  effect, 
were  nonentity. 

7.  To  put  out  all  the  consciousness  that  is  in  nature,  were 
tantamount  to  the  annihilation  of  nature  ;  and  the  lighting  up 
again  of  but  one  mind  in  the  midst  of  this  desolation,  would 
of  itself  restore  significancy  to  the  scene,  and  be  more  than 
equivalent  to  the  first  creation  of  it.  In  other  words,  one  liv- 
ing mind  is  of  more  worth  than  a  dead  universe ;  or  there  is 
that  in  every  single  peasant,  to  which  I  owe  sublimer  homage, 
than,  if  untenanted  of  mind,  I  should  yield  to  all  the  wealth 
of  this  lower  world,  to  all  those  worlds  that  roll  in  spacious- 
ness and  in  splendor  through  the  vastnesses  of  astronomy. 

8.  Our  Savior  himself  hath  instituted  the  comparison  be- 
tween a  world  and  a  soul  ;  and,  whether  both  were  alike  per- 
ishable or  alike  enduring.  His  estimate  of  the  soul's  superiority 
would  hold.  He  founds  His  computation  on  our  brief  tenure 
of  all  that  is  earthly,  and  on  the  magnitude  of  those  abiding 
interests  which  wait  the  immortal  spirit  in  other  scenes  of  ex- 
istence. All  men  are  immortal.  There  is  a  grandeur  of  des- 
tination here,  that  far  outweighs  all  the  pride  and  pretension 
of  this  world's  grandeur. 

9.  Those  lordly  honors  which  some  men  fetch  from  the  an- 
tiquity of  their  race,  are  but  poor,  indeed,  when  compared  with 
that  more  signal  honor  which  all  men  have  in  the  eternity  of 
their  duration.  In  respect  to  immortality,  the  great  and  the 
small  ones  of  the  earth  stand  on  an  equal  eminence ;  and 
in  respect  to  the  death  which  comes  before  it,  both  have  to 
sink  to  the  same  humiliating  level.  The  prince  shares  with 
the  peasant,  in  the  horror  and  loathsomeness  of  death, — the 


184  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

peasant  shares  witli  the  prince  in  the  high  distinction  of  im- 
mortality. 

10.  It  is  because  in  the  poorest  man's  bosom,  there  resides 
an  undying  principle ; — it  is  because  of  that  endless  futurity 
which  is  before  him,  and  in  the  progress  of  which  all  the 
splendors  and  obscurations  of  our  present  state  will  be  speedily 
forgotten  ; — it  is  because  of  these  that  humanity,  however  it  be 
clothed  and  conditioned  in  this  evanescent  world,  should  be 
the  object  of  an  awful  reverence.  And  if,  by  reason  of  the 
perishable  glories  which  sit  on  a  monarch's  brow  for  but  one 
generation,  it  is  imperative  to  honor  the  king ;  then,  by  reason 
of  those  glories,  to  which  the  meanest  may  attain,  and  which  are 
to  last  forever,  it  is  still  more  imperative  to  "  honor  all  men." 


11.  "Why  did  the  fiat  of  a  God  give  birth 
To  yon  fair  Sun,  and  his  attendant  Earth? 
And,  when  descending  he  resigns  the  skies. 
Why  takes  the  gentler  Moon  her  turn  to  rise, 
Whom  Ocean  feels  through  all  his  countless  waves, 
And  owns  her  power  on  every  shore  he  laves  ? 

12.  Why  do  the  Seasons  still  enrich  the  year, 
Fruitful  and  young  as  in  their  first  career  ? 
Spring  hangs  her  infant  blossoms  on  the  trees, 
Rocked  in  the  cradle  of  the  western  breeze ; 
Summer  in  haste  the  thriving  charge  receives 
Beneath  tlie  shade  of  her  expanded  leaves. 
Till  Autumn's  fiercer  heats  and  plenteous  dews 
Dye  them  at  last  in  all  their  glowing  hues. — 

13.  'Twere  wild  profusion  all,  and  bootless  waste. 
Power  misemployed,  munificence  misplaced, 
Had  not  its  Author  dignified  the  plan, 

And  crowned  it  with  the  majesty  of  Man. 
For  him  kind  Nature  wakes  her  genial  power, 
Nurses  each  herb,  and  spreads  out  every  flower ; 
Seas  roll  to  waft  him,  suns  to  light  him  rise ; 
His  footstool,  Earth,  his  canopy,  the  Skies." 


FIFTH     BOOK.  185 

LESSON    LIV* 
THE     LAST    MAN". 

CAMPBELL. 

1.  All  worldly  shapes  shall  melt  in  gloom, — 

The  Sun  himself  must  die, 
Before  this  mortal  shall  assume 

Its  immortality  ! 
I  saw  a  vision  in  my  sleep. 
That  gave  my  spirit  strength  to  sweep 

Adown  the  gulf  of  time  '.•  ' 
I  saw  the  last  of  human  mold, 
That  shall  creation's  death  behold, 

As  Adam  saw  her  prime  ! 

2.  The  sun's  eye  had  a  sickly  glare, — 

The  earth  with  age  was  wan ; 
The  skeletons  of  nations  were 

Around  that  lonely  man ! 
Some  had  expired  in  fight, — the  brands 
Still  rusted  in  their  bony  hands, — 

In  plague  and  famine  some. 
Earth's  cities  had  no  sound  or  tread, 
And  ships  were  drifting  with  the  dead — 

To  shores  where  all  was  dumb  ! 

3.  Yet,  prophet-like,  that  lone  one  stood, 

With  dauntless  words  and  high. 
That  shook  the  sear  leaves  from  the  wood, 

As  if  a  storm  passed  by ; 
Saying  : — "  We  are  twins  in  death,  proud  Sun  ; 
Thy  face  is  cold,  thy  race  is  run, 

'Tis  mercy  bids  thee  go ; 
For  thou,  ten  thousand  thousand  years, 
Hast  seen  the  tide  of  human  tears, 

That  shall  no  longer  flow. 

4.  "  This  spirit  shall  return  to  Him 

That  gave  its  heavenly  spark; 


186  SANDEKS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Yet,  think  not,  Sun,  it  shall  be  dim, 

When  thou  thyself  art  dark ! 
No  !  it  shall  live  again,  and  shine 
In  bliss  unknown  to  beams  of  thine, 

By  Him  recalled  to  breath, 
Who  captive  led  captivity, 
Who  robbed  the  grave  of  victory, 
And  took  the  sting  from  death  ! 

6.  "  Go,  Sun,  while  mercy  holds  me  up 

On  Nature's  awml  waste. 
To  drink  this  last  and  bitter  cup 

Of  grief  that  man  shall  taste. 
Go,  tell  that  night  that  hides  thy  face, 
Thou  saw'st  the  last  of  Adam's  race, 

On  Earth's  sepulchral  clod, 
The  darkening  universe  defy 
To  quench  his  immortality, 

Or  shake  his  trust  in  God  !" 


LESSON    LV* 
THE  JUNGFRAU  ALP,  AND  ITS  AVALANCHES. 

6.  B.  CHEEVEB. 

1.  When  we  came  to  the  Inn  upon  the  Wengern  Alp,  we 
were  nearly  5,500  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  We  were 
directly  in  face  of  the  Jungfrau,  upon  whose  masses  of  per- 
petual snow  we  had  been  gazing  with  so  much  interest.  They 
seem  close  to  us,  so  great  is  the  deception  in  clear  air  ;  but  a 
deep,  vast  ravine,  (I  know  not  but  a  league  across  from  where 
we  were,)  separates  the  Wengern  Alp  from  the  Jungfrau,  which 
rises  in  an  abrupt  sheer  precipice,  of  many  thousand  feet, 
somewhat  broken  into  terraces,  down  which  the  Avalanches 
from  the  higher  beds  of  untrodden,  everlasting  snow,  plunge 
thundering  into  the  uninhabitable  abyss. 

2.  Perhaps,  there  is  not  another  mountain  so  high  in  all 
Switzerland,  which  you  can  look  at  so   near  and  so  full  in  the 


FIFTH      BOOK.  187 

face.  Out  of  this  ravine  the  Junsffrau  rises  eleven  thousand 
feet,  down  which  vast  hight  the  Avalanches  sometimes  sweep 
with  their  incalculable  masses  of  ice  from  the  very  topmost 
summit.  The  idea  of  a  mass  of  ice,  so  gigantic  that  it  might 
overwhelm  whole  hamlets,  or  sweep  away  a  forest  in  its  course, 
being  shot  down,  with  only  one  or  two  interruptions,  a  dis- 
tance of  eleven  thousand  feet,  is  astounding.  But  it  is  those 
very  interruptions  that  go  to  produce  the  overpowering  sub- 
limity of  the  scene. 

3.  Were  there  no  concussion  intervening  between  the  loosen- 
ing of  the  mountain  ridge  of  ice  and  snow,  and  its  fall  into  the 
valley,  if  it  shot  sheer  off  into  the  air,  and  came  down  in  one 
solid  mass  unbroken,  it  would  be  as  if  a  mountain  had  fallen, 
at  noon-day,  out  of  heaven.  And  this  would  certainly  be  sub- 
lime in  the  highest  degree,  but  it  would  not  have  the  awful 
slowness  and  deep  prolonged  roar  of  the  Jungfrau  Avalanche 
in  mid  air,  nor  the  repetition  of  sublimity  with  each  interval 
of  thousands  of  feet,  in  which  it  strikes  and  thunders. 

4.  I  think,  without  any  exception,  it  was  the  grandest  sight 
I  ever  beheld,  not  even  the  cataract  of  Niagara  having  im- 
pressed me  with  such  thrilling  sublimity.  Ordinarilv,  in  a 
sunny  day  at  noon,  the  Avalanches  are  falling  on  the  Jungfrau 
about  every  ten  minutes,  with  the  roar  of  thunder,  but  they 
are  much  more  seldom  visible,  and  sometimes  the  traveler 
crosses  the  Wengern  Alp  without  witnessing  them  at  all.  But 
we  were  so  highly  favored  as  to  see  two  of  the  grandest  Ava- 
lanches possible,  in  the  course  of  about  an  hour,  between  twelve 
o'clock  and  two.  One  can  not  command  any  language  to  con- 
vey an  adequate  idea  of  their  magnificence. 

5.  You  are  standing  far  below,  gazing  up  where  the  great 
disc  of  the  glittering  Alp  cuts  the  heavens,  and  drinking  in 
the  influence  of  the  silent  scene  around.  Suddenly  an  enor- 
mous mass  of  snow  and  ice,  in  itself  a  mountain,  seems  to 
move ;  it  breaks  from  the  toppling  outmost  mountain  ridge  of 
snow,  w^here  it  is  hundreds  of  feet  in  depth,  and  in  its  first  fall 
of  perhaps  two  thousand  feet,  is  broken  into  millions  of  frag- 
ments.    As  you   first   see   the  flash    of  distant   artillery  by 


188  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

niglit,  tlien  hear  the  roar,  so  here  you  may  see  the  white  flash- 
ing mass  majestically  bowing,  then  hear  the  astounding  din. 

6.  A  cloud  of  dusty,  dry  snow  rises  into  the  air  from  the 
concussion,  forming  a  white  volume  of  fleecy  smoke,  or  misty 
light,  from  the  bosom  of  which  thunders  forth  the  icy  torrent 
in  its  second  prodigious  fall  over  the  rocky  battlements.  The 
eye  follows  it  delighted,  as  it  plows  through  the  path  which 
preceding  Avalanches  have  worn,  till  it  comes  to  the  brink  of  a 
vast  ridge  of  bare  rock,  perhaps  more  than  two  thousand  feet 
perpendicular.  Then  pours  the  whole  cataract  over  the  gulf, 
with  a  still  louder  roar  of  echoing  thunder,  to  which  nothing 
but  the  noise  of  Niagara  in  its  sublimity,  is  comparable. 

7.  Nevertheless,  you  may  think  of  the  tramp  of  an  army  of 
elephants,  or  the  roar  of  multitudinous  cavalry  marching  to 
battle,  of  the  whirlwind  tread  of  ten  thousand  bisons  sweeping 
across  the  prairie,  of  the  tempest  surf  of  ocean  beating  and 
shaking  the  continent,  of  the  sound  of  torrent  floods,  or  of  a 
numerous  host,  or  the  voice  of  the  trumpet  on  Sinai,  exceed- 
ing loud,  and  waxing  louder  and  louder,  so  that  all  the  people 
in  the  camp  tremble,  or  of  the  rolling  orbs  of  that  fierce  Char- 
iot, described  by  Milton, 

"  Under  whose  burning  wheels 
The  steadfast  empyrean  shook  throughout." 

It  is  with  such  a  mighty  shaking  tramp  that  the  Avalanche 
down  thunders. 

8.  Another  fall  of  still  greater  depth  ensues,  over  a  second, 
similar  castellated  ridge  or  reef  in  the  surface  of  the  mount- 
ain, with  an  awful,  majestic  slowness,  and  a  tremendous  crash 
in  its  concussion,  awakening  again  the  reverberating  peals  of 
thunder.  Then  the  torrent  roars  on  to  another  smaller  fall, 
till,  at  length,  it  reaches  a  mighty  groove  of  snow  and  ice. 
Here  its  progress  is  slower,  and,  last  of  all,  you  listen  to  the 
roar  of  the  falling  fragments,  as  they  drop,  out  of  sight,  with  a 
dead  weight  into  the  bottom  of  the  gulf,  to  rest  there  forever. 

9.  Figure  to  A^ourself  a  cataract  like  that  of  Niagara,  poured 
in  foaming  grandeur,  not  merely  over  one  great  precipice  of 
two  hundred  feet,  but  over  the  successive  ridgy  precipices  of 


FIFTH     BOOK  189 

two  or  three  tliousand,  in  the  face  of  a  mountain  eleven  thou- 
sand feet  high,  and  tumbling,  crashing,  thundering  down,  with 
a  continuous  din  of  far  greater  sublimity  than  the  sound  of  the 
grandest  cataract. 

10.  The  roar  of  the  falling  mass  begins  to  be  heard  the  mo- 
ment it  is  loosened  from  the  mountain ;  it  pours  on  with  the 
sound  of  a  vast  body  of  rushing  water ;  then  conies  the  first 
great  concussion,  a  booming  crash  of  thunders,  breaking  on  the 
still  air  in  mid-heaven  ;  your  breath  is  suspended,  as  you  listen 
and  look  ;  the  mighty  glittering  mass  shoots  headlong  over  the 
main  precipice,  and  the  fall  is  so  great,  that  it  produces  to  the 
eye  that  impression  of  dread  majestic  slowness,  of  which  I 
have  spoken,  though  it  is  doubtless  more  rapid  than  Niagara. 
But,  if  you  should  see  the  cataract  of  Niagara  itself  coming 
down  five  thousand  feet  above  you  in  the  air,  there  would  be 
the  same  impression.  The  image  remains  in  the  mind,  and 
can  never  fade  from  it ;  it  is  as  if  you  had  seen  an  alabaster 
cataract  from  heaven. 

11.  The  sound  is  far  more  sublime  than  that  of  Niagara,  be- 
cause of  the  preceding  stillness  in  those  Alpine  solitudes.  In 
the  midst  of  such  silence  and  solemnity,  from  out  the  bosom 
of  those  glorious,  glittering  forms  of  nature,  comes  that  rush- 
ing, crashing,  thunder-burst  of  sound !  If  it  were  not  that 
your  soul,  through  the  eye,  is  as  filled  and  fixed  with  the  sub- 
limity of  the  vision,  as  through  the  sense  of  hearing  with  that 
of  the  audible  report,  methinks  you  would  wish  to  bury  your 
face  in  your  hands,  and  fall  prostrate,  as  at  the  voice  of  the 
Eternal. 


LESSON  LVU 

Direction. — In  reading  or  speaking  the  following  sublime  composition, 
the  elocution  should  be  slow,  full,  and  distinct,  expressing  emotions  of 
sublimity  and  reverence. 

THE   MOUNT  A.IN   HYMN. 

COLERIOaE. 

1.  (o)  0  DREAD  and  silent  Mount!  I  gazed  upon  thee, 
Till  thou,  still  present  to  the  bodily  sense, 


190  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Didst  vanish  from  my  thought ; — entranced  in  prayer, 

I  worshiped  the  Invisible  alone. 

Yet,  hke  some  sweet  beguiling  melody, 

So  sweet,  we  know  not  we  are  listening  to  it. 

Thou,  the  meanwhile,  wast  blending  with  my  thought, 

Yea,  with  my  life  and  life's  own  secret  joy ; 

Till  the  dilating  soul,  enrapt,  transfused. 

Into  the  mighty  vision  passing, — there. 

As  in  her  natural  form,  swelled  vast  to  heaven ! 

2.  Awake,  my  soul !  not  only  passive  praise 
Thou  owest ; — not  alone  these  swelling  tears, 
Mute  thanks  and  secret  ecstasy.     Awake, 

Voice  of  sweet  song  !  (f)  awake,  my  heart,  awake  ! 
Green  vales  and  icy  clifis,  all  join  my  hymn. 

3.  Thou  first  and  chief,  sole  sovereign  of  the  vale  ! 
O !  struggling  with  the  darkness  all  the  night. 
And  visited  all  night  by  troops  of  stars, 

Or  when  they  climb  the  sky,  or  when  they  sink! 
Companion  of  the  morning  star  at  dawn. 
Thyself  earth's  rosy  star,  and  of  the  dawn 
Co-herald,  wake  !  O  wake  !  and  utter  praise ! 
Who  sank  thy  sunless  pillars  deep  in  earth  ? 
Who  filled  thy  countenance  with  rosy  light  ? 
Who  made  thee  parent  of  perpetual  streams  ? 

4.  And  you,  ye  five  wild  torrents  fiercely  glad  ! 
Who  called  you  forth  from  night  and  utter  death, 
From  dark  and  icy  caverns  called  you  forth, 
Down  those  precipitous,  black,  jagged  rocks, 
Forever  shattered,  and  the  same  forever  ? 

Who  gave  you  your  invulnerable  life. 

Your  strength^  your  speed,  your  fury,  and  your  joy, — 

Unceasing  thunder  and  eternal  foam  ? 

And  who  commanded,  and  the  silence  came, — 

"  Here  let  the  billows  stiffen,  and  have  rest  ?" 

6.  Ye  ice-falls  !  ye  that  from  the  mountain's  brow 
Adown  enormous  ravines  slope  amain — 


FIFTH     BOOK.  191 

Torrents,  inethiuks,  that  heard  a  mighty  voice, 
And  stopped  at  once  amid  their  maddest  plunge  ! 
Motionless  torrents  !  silent  cataracts ! 
Who  made  you  glorious  as  the  gates  of  Heaven 
Beneath  the  keen  full  moon  ?     Who  bade  the  sun 
Clothe  you  with  rainbows  ?     Who,  with  living  flowers 
Of  loveliest  blue,  spread  garlands  at  your  feet  ? 
"  God  !"  let  the  torrents,  like  a  shout  of  nations, 
Answer  !  and  let  the  ice-plains  echo, — "  God  !" 
"God!"  sing  ye  meadow-streams  with  gladsome  voice! 
Ye  pine  groves,  with  your  soft  and  soul-like  sounds ! 
And  they,  too,  have  a  voice,  yon  piles  of  snow. 
And  in  their  perilous  fall  shall  thunder, — "  God  !" 

Ye  livino;  flowers  that  skirt  the  eternal  frost ! 
Ye  wild  goats  sporting  round  the  eagle's  nest ! 
Ye  eagles,  playmates  of  the  mountain  storm  ! 
Ye  lightnings,  the  dread  arrows  of  the  clouds ! 
Ye  signs  and  wonders  of  the  elements  ! 
Utter  forth — "  God  !"  and  fill  the  hills  with  praise ! 

Thou,  too,  hoar  Mount !  with  thy  sky-pointing  peaks, 

Oft  from  whose  brow  the  avalanche,  unheard. 

Shoots  downward,  glittering  through  the  pure  serene^ 

Into  the  depth  of  clouds  that  vail  thy  breast, — 

Thou,  too,  again,  stupendous  Mountain,  thou, 

That  as  I  raise  my  head,  awhile  bowed  low 

In  adoration,  upward  from  thy  base. 

Slow  traveling  with  dim  eyes  suffused  with  tears, 

Solemnly  seemest,  like  a  vapory  cloud. 

To  rise  before  me, — rise,  (<)  O  ever  rise  ! 

Kise,  like  a  cloud  of  incense,  from  the  earth ! 

Thou  kingly  spirit,  throned  among  the  hills, 

Thou  dread  embassador  from  earth  to  heaven, 

Great  Hierarch !  tell  thou  the  silent  sky. 

And  tell  the  stars,  and  tell  yon  rising  sun, 

"  Earth,  with  her  thousand  voices,  praises  God." 


192  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON    hMll, 

Explanatory  Note. — 1.  William  Tell,  a  peasant  of  Switzerland,  is 
celebrated  for  his  resistance  to  the  tyranny  of  the  Austrian  Governor, 
Gesler,  and  as  one  of  the  heroes  who  restored  liberty  to  his  oppressed 
country  in  130*7.  For  want  of  obedience  to  the  mandate  of  Gesler,  in 
bowing  to  his  hat,  Tell  was  condemned  to  shoot  an  apple  from  the  head  of 
his  own  son.  He  succeeded  without  harming  his  boy,  but  confessed  that 
the  second  arrow  which  he  had  concealed,  was  intended,  in  case  he  failed, 
to  shoot  the  tyrant  himself. 

TELL   ON   THE   ALPS. 

1.  Once  more  I  breathe  the  mountain  air ;  once  more 
I  tread  my  own  free  hills !     My  lofty  soul 
Throws  all  its  fetters  off ;  in  its  proud  flight, 

'Tis  like  the  new-fledged  eaglet,  whose  strong  wing 
Soars  to  the  sun  it  long  has  gazed  upon 
With  eye  undazzled.     O !  ye  mighty  race 
That  stand  like  frowning  giants,  fixed  to  guard 
My  own  proud  land ;  why  did  ye  not  hurl  down 
The  thundering  avalanche,  when  at  your  feet 
The  base  usurper  stood  ?     A  touch — a  breath, 
Nay,  even  the  breath  of  prayer,  ere  now,  has  brought 
Destruction  on  the  hunter's  head ;  and  yet 
The  tyrant  passed  in  safety.     God  of  Heaven ! 
Where  slept  thy  thunder-bolts  ? 

2.  O,  liberty ! 

Thou  choicest  gift  of  Heaven,  and  wanting  which 
Life  is  as  nothing  ;  bast  thou  then  forgot 
Thy  native  home  ?     Must  the  feet  of  slaves  * 
Pollute  this  glorious  scene  ?     It  can  not  be. 
Even  as  the  smile  of  Heaven  can  pierce  the  depths 
Of  these  dark  caves,  and  bid  the  wild  flowers  bloom 
In  spots  where  man  has  never  dared  to  tread, — 
So  thy  sweet  influence  still  is  seen  amid 
These  beetling  cliffs.     Some  hearts  still  beat  for  thee, 
And  bow  alive  to  Heaven ;  thy  spirit  lives. 
Ay,  and  shall  live,  when  even  the  very  name 
Of  tyrant  is  forgot. 


riFTH     BOOK.  193 

Lo  !  while  I  gaze 
Upon  the  mist  that  wreathes  yon  mountain's  brow, 
The  sunbeam  touches  it,  and  it  becomes 
A  crown  of  glory  on  his  hoaiy  head  ; 
O !  is  not  this  a  presage  of  the  dawn 
Of  freedom  o'er  the  world  ?     Hear  me,  then,  bright 
And  beaming  Heaven  !  while  kneeling  thus  I  vow 
To  live  for  Freedom,  or  with  her — to  die  ! 


Oh  !  with  what  pride  I  used 
To  walk  these  hills,  and  look  up  to  my  God, 
And  bless  Him  that  it  was  so.     It  was  free, — 
From  end  to  end,  from  cliff  to  lake  'twas  free, — 
Free  as  our  torrents  are,  that  leap  our  rocks, 
And  plow  our  valleys,  without  asking  leave, — 
Or,  as  our  peaks  that  wear  their  caps  of  snow, 
In  very  presence  of  the  regal  sun  ! 
How  happy  was  I  in  it  then !     I  loved 
Its  very  storms !     Yes,  I  have  sat  and  eyed 
The  thunder  breaking  from  his  cloud,  and  smiled 
To  see  him  shake  his  lightnings  o'er  my  head, 
And  think  I  had  no  master  save  his  own ! 

,  Ye  know  the  jutting  cliff,  round  which  a  track 
Up  hither  winds,  whose  base  is  but  the  brow 
To  such  another  one,  with  scanty  room 
For  two  abreast  to  pass  ?     O'ertaken  there 
By  the  mountain  blast,  I've  laid  me  flat  along, 
And  while  gust  followed  gust  more  furiously, 
As  if  to  sweep  me  o'er  the  horrid  brink. 
And  I  have  thought  of  other  lands,  where  storms 
Are  summer  flaws  to  those  of  mine,  and  just 
Have  wished  me  there — the  thouo-ht  that  mine  was  free. 
Has  cheeked  that  wish,  and  I  have  raised  my  head, 
And  cried  iu  thralldom  to  that  furious  wind, 
Blow  on  !     This  is  the  Land  of  Liberty  !       Kitowles. 

9 


194  SANDERS'      NEW      SERIES. 

LESSON  LVnU 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Jn'uus  C^'sar,  after  various  conquests,  waa 
appointed  Governor  of  Gaul,  a  country  embracing  what  is  now  France. 
His  ambition  was  opposed  by  that  of  Pompey,  through  whose  influence 
the  Roman  Senate  passed  a  decree  divesting  Caesar  of  his  power.  Upon 
this  he  crossed  the  Rubicon,  a  small  river  which  formed  the  boundary  of 
his  province  from  Italy, — an  act  which  was  a  virtual  deciarauion  cf  war. 
He  was  victorious,  and  finally  conquered  Pompey  in  battle  on  the  plains 
of  Pliarsalia.  His  successes,  however,  created  liim  enemies,  and  he  was 
stabbed  in  the  Senate-House,  by  some  of  the  leading  Senators,  among 
whom  was  his  friend  Brutus. 

2.  Al'  bi  on  is  a  name  sometimes  appUed  to  England. 

THE    EVILS    OF    WAR. 

H.    OLAT. 

"  The  drying  up  a  single  tear  has  more 
Of  honest  fame,  than  shedding  seas  of  gore." — Byron. 

1.  War,  pestilence,  and  famine,  by  the  common  consent  of 
mankind,  are  the  three  greatest  calamities  which  can  befall  our 
species ;  and  war,  as  the  most  direful,  justly  stands  foremost 
and  in  front.  Pestilence  and  famine,  no  doubt  for  wise  although 
inscrutable  purposes,  are  inflictions  of  Providence,  to  which  it 
is  our  duty,  therefore,  to  bow  with  obedience,  humble  submis- 
sion, and  resignation.  Their  duration  is  not  long,  and  their 
ravages  are  limited.  They  bring,  indeed,  great  affliction,  while 
they  last,  but  society  soon  recovers  from  their  effects. ' 

2.  War  is  the  voluntary  work  of  our  own  hands,  and  what- 
ever reproaches  it  may  deserve,  should  be  directed  to  ourselves. 
When  it  breaks  out,  its  duration  is  indefinite  and  unknown, — 
its  vicissitudes  are  hidden  from  our  view.  In  the  sacrifice  of 
human  life,  and  in  the  waste  of  human  treasure, — in  its  losses 
and  in  its  burdens, — it  aff'ects  both  belligerent  nations,  and  its 
sad  eff'ects  of  mangled  bodies,  of  death,  and  of  desolation,  en- 
dure long  after  its  thunders  are  hushed  in  peace. 

3.  War  unhinges  society,  disturbs  its  peaceful  and  regular 
industry,  and  scatters  poisonous  seeds  of  disease  and  immo- 
rality, which  continue  to  germinate  and  diffuse  their  baneful 
influence  long  after  it  has  ceased.     Dazzling  by  its  glitter, 


FIFTH     BOOK.  195 

pomp,  and  pageantry,  it  begets  a  spirit  of  wild  adventure  and 
romantic  enterprise,  and  often  disqualifies  those  who  embark 
in  it,  after  their  return  from  the  bloody  fields  of  battle,  for 
engaging  in  the  industrious  and  peaceful  vocations  of  life. 

4.  History  tells  the  mournful  tale  of  conquering  nations  and 
conquerors.  The  three  most  celebrated  conquerors,  in  the  civ- 
ilized world,  were  Alexander,  C^sar,  and  Napoleon.  The 
first,  after  ruining  a  large  portion  of  Asia,  and  sighing  and  la- 
menting that  there  were  no  more  worlds  to  subdue,  met  a 
premature  and  ignoble  death.  His  lieutenants  quarreled  and 
warred  with  each  other  as  to  the  spoils  of  his  victories,  and 
finally  lost  them  all. 

5.  Cesar,'  after  conquering  Gaul,  returned  with  his  trium- 
phant legions  to  Rome,  passed  the  Rubicon,  won  the  battle  of 
Pharsalia,  trampled  upon  the  liberties  of  his  country,  and  ex- 
pired by  the  patriot  hand  of  Brutus.  But  Rome  ceased  to  be 
free.  War  and  conquest  had  enervated  and  corrupted  the 
masses.  The  spirit  of  true  liberty  was  extinguished,  and  a 
long  line  of  emperors  succeeded,  some  of  whom  were  the  most 
execrable  monsters  that  ever  existed  in  human  form. 

6.  And  Napoleon,  that  most  extraordinary  man,  perhaps, 
in  all  history,  after  subjugating  all  continental  Europe,  occu- 
pying almost  all  its  capitals, — seriously  threatening  proud  Al- 
bion" itself, — and  decking  the  brows  of  various  members  of  his 
family  with  crowns  torn  from  the  heads  of  other  monarchs, 
lived  to  behold  his  own  dear  France  itself  in  possession  of  his 
enemies,  was  made  himself  a  wretched  captive,  and  far  removed 
from  country,  family,  and  friends,  breathed  his  last  on  the  dis- 
tant and  inhospitable  rock  of  St.  Helena. 

7.  The  Alps  and  the  Rhine  had  been  claimed,  as  the  natural 
boundaries  of  France,  but  even  these  could  not  be  secured  in 
the  treaties,  to  which  she  was  reduced  to  submit.  Do  you  be- 
lieve that  the  people  of  Macedon  or  Greece,  of  Rome,  or  of 
France,  were  benefited,  individually  or  collectively,  by  the  tri- 
umphs of  their  captains  ?  Their  sad  lot  was  immense  sacri- 
fice of  life,  heavy  and  intolerable  burdens,  and  the  ultimate 
loss  of  liberty  itself. 


196  SANDERS'    NEW    SERIES, 


LESSON  LIX* 

Explanatory  Note. — 1.  The  following  is  an  extract  from  a  Speech, 
delivered  in  the  United  States'  Senate,  on  the  Oregon  Question,  at  a  time 
"when  fears  were  entertained  that  war  would  ensue  between  Great  Britain 
and  the  United  Scales. 

PEACE,    THE    POLICY    OF    A    NATION. 

J.    C.   CALHOUN. 

1.  I  AM  opposed  to  war,  as  a  friend  to  liuman  improvement, 
to  human  civilization,  to  human  progress  and  advancement. 
Never,  in  the  history  of  the  world,  has  there  occurred  a  period 
so  remakable.  The  chemical  and  mechanical  powers  have 
been  investigated  and  applied  to  advance  the  comforts  of  hu- 
man life,  in  a  degree  far  beyond  all  that  was  ever  known  be- 
fore. Civilization  has  been  spreading  its  influence  far  and 
wide,  and  the  general  progress  of  human  society  has  outstrip- 
ped all  that  had  been  previously  witnessed. 

2.  The  invention  of  man  has  seized  upon,  and  subjugated 
two  great  agencies  of  the  natural  world,  which  never  before 
•were  made  the  servants  of  man.  I  refer  to  steam,  and  to  elec- 
tricity, under  which  I  include  magnetism  in  all  its  phenomena. 
We  have  been  distinguished  by  Providence  for  a  great  and  no- 
ble purpose,  and  I  trust  we  shall  fulfill  our  high  destiny. 

3.  Again,  I  am  opposed  to  war,  because  I  hold  that  it  is 
now  to  be  determined  whether  two  such  nations  as  these'  shall 
exist  for  the  future,  as  friends  or  enemies.  A  declaration  of 
war  by  one  of  them  against  the  other,  must  be  pregnant  with 
miseries,  not  only  to  themselves,  but  to  the  world. 

4.  Another  reason  is,  that  mighty  means  are  now  put  into 
the  hands  of  both,  to  cement  and  secure  a  perpetual  peace,  by 
breaking  down  the  barriers  of  commerce,  and  uniting  them 
more  closely  in  an  intercourse,  mutually  beneficial.  If  this  shall 
be  accomplished,  other  nations  will,  one  after  another,  follow 
the  fair  example,  and  a  state  of  general  prosperity,  heretofore 
unknown,  will  gradually  unite  and  bless  the  nations  of  the 
world. 

5.  And  far  more  than  all.     An  intercourse  like  this,  points 


FIFTH    BOOK.  197 

to  that  inspiring  day  which  philosophers  have  hoped  for,  which 
poets  have  seen  in  their  bright  dreams  of  fancy,  and  which 
prophecy  has  seen  in  holy  vision, — when  men  shall  learn  war 
no  more.  Who  can  contemplate  a  state  of  the  world  like  this, 
and  not  feel  his  heart  exult  at  the  prospect  ?  And  who  can 
doubt  that,  in  the  hand  of  an  Omnipotent  Providence,  a  free 
and  unrestricted  commerce  shall  prove  one  of  the  greatest 
aijcents  in  bringing  it  about  ? 

6.  Finally,  I  am  against  war,  because  peace — peace  is  pre- 
eminently our  policy.  Our  great  mission,  as  a  people,  is  to  oc- 
cupy this  vast  domain, — there  to  level  forests,  and  let  in  upon 
their  solitude  the  light  of  day ;  to  clear  the  swamps  and  mo- 
rasses, and  redeem  them  to  the  plow  and  the  sickle ;  to  spread 
over  hill  and  dale  the  echoes  of  human  labor,  and  human  hap- 
piness, and  contentment ;  to  fill  the  land  with  cities  and  towns ; 
to  unite  its  opposite  extremities  by  turnpikes  and  railroads ;  to 
scoop  out  canals  for  the  transmission  of  its  products,  and  open 
rivers  for  its  internal  trade. 

7.  War  can  only  impede  tbe  fulfillment  of  this  high  mission 
of  Heaven  ;  it  absorbs  the  wealth,  and  diverts  the  energy  which 
might  be  so  much  better  devoted  to  the  improvement  of  our 
country.  All  we  want  is  peace, — established  peace  ;  and  then 
time,  under  the  guidance  of  a  wise  and  cautious  policy,  will 
soon  effect  for  us  all  the  rest.  Where  we  find  that  natural 
causes  will  of  themselves  work  out  good,  our  wisdom  is  to 
let  them  work  ;  and  all  our  task  is'to  remove  impediments.  In 
the  present  case,  one  of  the  greatest  of  these  impediments,  is 
found  in  our  impatience. 

8.  Yes ;  time — ever-laboring  time — will  effect  every  thing  for 
ns.  Our  population  is  now  increasing  at  the  annual  average 
of  six  hundred  thousand.  Let  the  next  twenty -five  years 
elapse,  and  our  increase  wnll  have  reached  a  million  a  year, 
and,  at  the  end  of  that  period,  we  shall  count  a  population  of 
forty-five  millions.  Before  that  day  it  will  have  spread  from 
ocean  to  ocean.  The  coasts  of  the  Pacific  will  then  be  as 
densely  populated,  and  as  thickly  settled  Avith  villages  and 
towns,  as  is  now  the  coast  of  the  Atlantic. 


198  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

9.  If  we  can  preserve  peace,  who  shall  set  bounds  to  our 
prosperity,  or  to  our  success  ?  With  one  foot  planted  on  the 
Atlantic,  and  the  other  on  the  Pacific,  we  shall  occupy  a  po- 
sition between  the  two  old  continents  of  the  world, — a  position 
eminently  calculated  to  secure  to  us  the  commerce  and  the  in- 
fluence of  both.  If  we  abide  by  the  counsels  of  common  sense, 
— if  we  succeed  in  preserving  our  constitutional  liberty,  we 
shall  then  exhibit  a  spectacle  such  as  the  world  never  saw. 

10.  I  know  that  this  one  great  mission  is  encompassed  Avitli 
difficulties ;  but  such  is  the  inherent  energy  of  our  political 
system,  and  such  its  expansive  capability,  that  it  may  be  made 
to  govern  the  widest  space.  If  by  war  Ave  become  great,  we 
can  not  be  free  ;  if  we  will  be  both  great  and  free,  our  policy 
is  peace. 


LESSON   hX. 

Explanatory  Note. — 1.  La  plac6  was  a  celebrated  Frenca  Matbema- 
tician  and  Astronomer,  bom  in  1749.  He  was  appointed  to  several  polit- 
ical stations. 

THE  TRUE  HONOR  OF  A  NATION. 

W.    E.  PRINCE. 

1 .  A  nation's  real  honor  consists  in  the  practice  of  virtue, — 
acts  of  justice, — in  enduring  Avrongs  with  patience, — promoting 
the  welfare  of  other  nations  by  deeds  of  kindness, — in  endeav- 
oring to  allay  animosities  and  secure  peace  among  all, — in  ad- 
vancing literature  and  fostering  the  arts  and  sciences.  These 
are  the  virtues  that  command  respect  and  admiration, — the 
gems  that  render  radiant  a  nation's  brow. 

2.  What  is  it,  that  gives  character  and  permanence  to  a  na- 
tion's fame  ?  Is  it  its  military  exploits,  heroes,  and  warrior?: 
What  would  there  be  to  admire  in  the  history  of  ancient 
Greece  and  Rome,  were  it  not  that  we  meet  the  instructions  of 
the  distinguished  philosophers  of  Athens, — listen  to  the  strains 
of  their  poets, — are  moved  by  the  eloquence  of  Cicero, — are 
quailed  beneath  the  thunders  of  Demosthenes  ?  What  but 
their  names  gave  to  those  republics  a  splendor,  that  eclipses 
the  mightiest  efforts  of  all  modern  nations  ? 


FIFTH     BOOK.  199 

3.  What  adorns  the  character  of  France  and  England,  and 
renders  them  venerable  ?  Were  the  names  of  their  ambitious 
warriors  blotted  from  the  pages  of  their  history,  their  national 
honor  would  remain  unstained, — their  splendor  untarnished. 
It  is  such  men  as  Laplace,'  Milton,  Locke,  and  Newton,  that 
render  these  nations  renowned,  and  give  them  a  character  that 
is  respected  by  the  world.  Tliese  are  names  that  will  be  cher- 
ished and  remembered  long  after  those  of  heroes  and  warriors 
are  forgotten.  They  will  ever  remain  the  pyramids  of  their 
nation's  glory,  majestic  in  the  midst  of  ruins,  gilded  with  light, 
the  admiration  of  future  ages. 


■  •  ♦  t  ■ 


LESSON    LXI* 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  "Wel'  ling  ton  was  a  distinguished  English 
genera],  and  was  the  commander  of  the  English  army  at  the  battle  of 
"Waterloo,  in  opposition  to  Bonaparte. 

2.  Sir  Wal'ter  Scott,  the  most  popular  writer  of  his  age,  was  born  at 
Edinburgh,  Scotland,  in  1771.  He  was  the  author  of  a  number  of  works, 
among  which  are — "The  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  "Marmion,"  "Life  of  Napoleon 
Bonaparte,"  &c. 

THE  WARRIOR  AND  THE  POET. 

WM.  H.  PRESCOTT. 

1.  The  soldier  by  a  single  victory,  enlarges  the  limits  of  an 
empire  ; — ^he  may  do  more  ;  he  may  achieve  the  liberties  of  a 
nation,  or  roll  back  the  tide  of  barbarism  ready  to  overwhelm 
them.  Wellington'  was  placed  in  such  a  position,  and  nobly 
did  he  do  his  work ;  or  rather,  he  was  placed  at  the  head  of 
such  a  gigantic  moral  and  physical  apparatus  as  enabled  him 
to  do  it.  With  his  own  unassisted  strength  he  could  have 
done  nothing. 

2.  But  it  is  on  his  own  solitary  resources  that  the  great 
writer  is  to  rely.  And  yet,  who  shall  say  that  the  triumphs 
of  Wellington,  have  been  greater  than  those  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott",  whose  works  are  familiar  as  household  words  to  every 
fireside  in  his  own  land,  from  the  castle  to  the  cottage, — have 
crossed  oceans  and  deserts,  and,  with  healing  on  ^lieir  wings, 
found  their  way  to  the  remotest  regions, — have  helped  to  form 


200  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

the  character,  until  liis  own  mind  may  be  said  to  be  incorpo- 
rated into  those  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  his  fellow  men  ? 
3.  Who  is  there  that  has  not,  at  some  time  or  other,  felt  the 
heaviness  of  his  heart  lightened,  his  pains  mitigated,  and  his 
bright  moments  of  life,  made  still  brighter  by  the  magical 
touches  of  his  genius?  And  shall  we  speak  of  his  victories  as 
less  real, — less  serviceable  to  humanity, — less  truly  glorious 
than  those  of  the  greatest  captain  of  his  day  ?  The  triumphs 
of  the  warrior  are  bounded  by  the  narrow  theater  of  his  own 
age ;  but  those  of  a  Scott,  or  a  Shakspeare,  will  be  renewed 
with  greater  and  greater  luster  in  ages  yet  to  come,  when  the 
victorious  chieftain  shall  be  forgotten,  or  shall  live  only  in  the 
song  of  the  minstrel,  and  the  page  of  the  chronicler. 


LESSON   LXIU 

THE  ANGEL  OF  PEACE,  AND  THE  ANGEL  OF   MERCY. 

J.  C.  PRINCE. 

1.  In  the  shadow  of  slumber  as  dreaming  I  lay. 
While  the  skies  kindled  up  at  the  coming  of  day. 
Two  angels,  with  pinions  of  splendor  unfurled, 
Came  down  with  the  softness  of  light  on  the  world : 
Grace,  glory,  and  gentleness,  compassed  them  round, 
And  their  voices  came  forth  with  mellifluous  sound. 
As  they  uttered  sweet  words,  heard  and  echoed  above, 
And  departed  on  God-given  missions  of  love. 

2*  From  nation  to  nation  one  wandered  afar, 
And  the  tumult,  the  broil,  the  delirium  of  war, 
The  music  that  mocked  the  last  struggle  of  life, 
The  trumpet  that  wailed  through  the  pauses  of  strife, 
The  sod- staining  revel,  the  cloud-cleaving  roar. 
Were  awed  into  silence  to  waken  no  more ; — 
The  death-dealing  bolt  of  the  cannon  was  staid, 
The  soldier  flung  from  him  the  blood-reeking  blade, 
The  plume  was  uncared  for,  the  helmet  unworn, 
The  laurel  was  withered,  the  banner  was  torn. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  201 

The  gorgeous  delusion  of  warfare  was  past, 

And  the  Spirit  of  Brotherhood  triumphed  at  last  1 

3.  Then  Science  arose  from  his  thralldom,  and  stole 
From  the  keeping  of  Nature  new  gifts  for  the  Soul ; 
Then  valorous  Enterprise  waved  his  proud  hand, 
And  might  and  magnificence  covered  the  land  ; 
Then  Commerce,  from  bonds  of  oppression  set  free, 
Linked  country  to  country,  and  sea  unto  sea ; 
Then  Art,  with  a  dream-like  devotion,  refined 

Into  beauty  and  purity,  matter  and  mind. 

4.  Then  Knowledge  let  loose  all  her  treasures,  and  found 
Goodly  seed  springing  up  in  the  stoniest  ground ; 
Power,  Plenty,  Intelligence,  prospered  amain, 
Secure  of  a  placid  and  permanent  reign  ; 

While  the  Poet,  a  prophet,  a  teacher  in  song. 
Sang  hymns  of  rejoicing,  to  gladden  the  throng. 
O'er  the  earth  her  broad  pinions  thus  spreading  afar, 
Did  the  Angel  of  Peace  hush  the  tumult  of  war ! 

5.  The  other  sweet  visitant,  sweetly  sublime, 
"Went  forth  as  a  pleader  for  Error  and  Crime ; 
In  the  palace  she  tempered  the  soul  of  the  King, 

His  proud  heart  was  softened  at  the  touch  of  her  wing. 
In  the  Senate  she  governed  with  eloquent  awe, — 
She  swayed  in  the  Council,  she  lived  in  the  Law  ; 
In  the  Prison,  'mid  apathy,  terror,  and  gloom, 
To  the  wretch  who  lay  waiting  the  word  of  his  doom, 
She  whispered  of  hope,  breathed  a  calm  o'er  his  fears, 
Till  his  eyes  overflowed  with  the  blessing  of  tears, — 
Till  his  spirit  shook  ofi"  the  sad  mien  of  despair. 
And  his  lips  were  inspired  with  the  fervor  of  prayer. 

6.  By  the  side  of  grave  Justice  she  took  her  proud  stand, 
And  touched  the  dread  scales  with  so  lenient  a  hand. 
That  the  guilty,  o'erburdened  with  gladness,  withdrew 
To  a  life  of  repentance  and  usefulness  too, — 


202  SANDEES'    NEW     SERIES. 

To  a  life  which  atoned  to  the  world  for  the  past, 
And  canceled  the  records  of  sinning  at  last. 
And  well  might  such  multiform  blessings  have  birth ; 
For  the  Angel  of  Mercy  had  hallowed  the  earth ! 


»« ♦ »« 


LESSON  LXHU 

THE  UNIYERSAL  REIGN  OF  PEACE. 

COWPER. 

1.  The  groans  of  Nature  in  this  nether  world, 
Which  Heaven  has  heard  for  ages,  have  an  end. 
Foretold  by  prophets,  and  by  poets  sung, 
"Whose  fire  was  kindled  at  the  prophets'  lamp. 
The  time  of  rest,  the  promised  Sabbath,  comes. 

2.  Six  thousand  years  of  sorrow  have  well-nigh 
Fulfilled  their  tardy  and  disastrous  course 
Over  a  sinful  world  ;  and  what  remains 
Of  this  tempestuous  state  of  human  things, 
Is  merely  as  the  working  of  a  sea 
Before  a  calm,  that  rocks  itself  to  rest ; — 
For  He,  whose  car  the  winds  are,  and  the  clouds, 
The  dust  that  waits  upon  His  sultry  march. 
Shall  visit  Earth  in  mercy, — shall  descend, 
Propitious,  in  His  chariot  paved  with  love, — 
And  what  His  storms  have  blasted  and  defaced 
For  man's  revolt,  shall  with  a  smile  repair. 

3.  O  scenes  surpassing  fable,  and  yet  true, — 
Scenes  of  accomplished  bliss  !  which  who  can  see. 
Though  but  in  distant  prospect,  and  not  feel  fi 
His  soul  refreshed  with  foretaste  of  the  joy  ? 
Kivers  of  gladness  water  all  the  Earth, 
And  clothe  all  climes  with  beauty. 

4v  The  fruitful  field 

Laughs  with  abundance  ;  and  the  land,  once  lean, 
Or  fertile  only  in  its  own  disgrace, 
Exults  to  see  its  thistly  curse  repealed. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  203 

The  various  seasons  woven  into  one, 
And  that  one  season  an  eternal  spring ; 
The  garden  fears  no  blight,  and  needs  no  fence, 
For  there  is  none  to  covet,  all  are  full. 

6.  The  lion,  and  the  leopard,  and  the  bear, 

Graze  with  the  fearless  flocks ;  all  bask  at  noon, 
Together,  or  all  gambol  in  the  shade 
Of  the  same  grove,  and  drink  one  common  stream. 
Antipathies  are  none.     No  foe  to  man 
Lurks  m  the  serpent  now. — The  mother  sees, 
And  smiles  to  see,  her  infant's  playful  hand 
Stretched  forth  to  dally  with  the  crested  worm. 
To  stroke  his  azure  neck,  or  to  receive 
The  lambent  homage  of  his  arrowy  tongue. 

6.  All  creatures  worship  man ;  and  all  mankind, 
One  Lord,  One  Father.     Error  has  no  place, — 
That  creeping  pestilence  is  driven  away ; 

The  breath  of  Heaven  has  chased  it.     In  the  heart 

No  passion  touches  a  discordant  string, 

But  all  is  harmony  and  love.     Disease 

Is  not ; — the  pure  and  uncontaminate  blood 

Holds  its  due  course,  nor  fears  the  frost  of  age. 

7.  One  song  employs  all  nations  ;  and  all  cry : — 
"  Worthy  the  Lamb,  for  He  was  slain  for  us  1" 
The  dwellers  in  the  vales,  and  on  the  rocks. 
Shout  to  each  other,  and  the  mountain-tops 
From  distant  mountains  catch  the  flying  joy ; 
Till,  nation  after  nation  taught  the  strain, 
Earth  rolls  the  rapturous  Hosanna  round. 


LESSON   LXIV> 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Gym  nas'  i  um  was  a  name  given  by  the 
Greeks  and  Romans  to  the  public  buildings,  where  the  young  men  exer- 
cised themselves  in  running,  leaping,  wrestling,  &c.  In  tlfem,  also,  phi- 
losophers and  teachers  lectured.     There  were  collected  all  the  apparatus 


204:  SANDEES'     NEW     SERIES. 

necessary  to  improve  in  the  arts  of  peace  and  war.     Such  a  gymnasium 
was  also  called  a  Palcestra. 

2.  Prax  it'  e  les  was  one  of  the  greatest  sculptors  of  Greece. 

3.  La'  0  COON  is  the  name  of  one  of  the  finest  works  of  sculpture  known. 
By  whom  it  was  wrought,  is  not  precisely  known.  It  was  found  in 
1506  by  diggers  in  a  vineyard.  It  Ls  now  at  Rome.  It  represents  the 
dying  agonies  of  Laocoon,  who,  it  is  said,  was  a  priest  of  Neptune  at 
Troy,  and  was  killed,  with  his  two  sons,  by  two  enormous  serpents. 

4.  Ros'  cius  was  a  celebrated  Roman  actor.  He  died  about  60  years 
before  Christ. 

5.  Soph'  o  cles  was  a  distinguished  dramatist  of  Athens.  He  lived  450 
years  before  Christ.  Among  his  other  excellent  dramas,  is  tkat  of  CEdipus. 
■  6.  ^s'  CHY  Lus  was  a  celebrated  Grecian  dramatist,  who  hved  before 
Sophocles.     He  has  been  styled  "  the  father  of  tragedy." 

1.  Etr  rip'  I DES  was  also  a  Grecian  dramatist  of  great  celebrity,  who 
lived  at  the  same  time  with  Sophocles. 

8.  "White' FIELD,  an  eminent  preacher,  was  bom  in  England  in  1714. 
He  visited  the  United  States  several  times,  and  was  distinguished  for  his 
elocutionary  powers. 

ART  IN    ORATORY. 

1.  "  Nature  is  the  Art  of  God."  Tlie  symmetry,  the 
beauty,  the  unity,  and  the  perfection  which  it,  reveals,  attest  not 
merely  a  divine  origin,  but  a  divine  Artist.  Man,  whether  we 
regard  him  in  his  relation  to  nature,  or  as  an  independent  cre- 
ation, beautifully  illustrates  and  confirms  this  truth.  In  the 
fall  development  of  his  being,  spiritual  and  physical,  we  have 
the  product  of  an  art  and  an  Artist,  divine  as  the  work  of  no 
other  art  or  artist  ever  can  be.  The  account  we  have  received 
of  it  from  its  Author,  should  exalt,  while  it  inspires  us  with 

awe, "  IN  THE  IMAGE  OF  GoD  CREATED  He  HIM." 

2.  That  image  of  Divinity,  defaced  though  it  has  been,  bears 
many  a  trace  of  its  Grand  Original.  Man,  too,  is  an  artist,  a  cre- 
ator ;  finite,  it  is  true,  but  yet  a  creator.  The  hard,  jagged,  and 
shapeless  rock,  in  his  hand,  will  grow  into  forms  of  majesty, 
grace,  and  beauty,  which  kings  will  reverence.     He  can  change 

"  The  blank  canvas  to  a  magic  mirror, 
Making  the  absent  present ;  and  to  shadows 
Give  light,  depth,  substance,  bloom, — yea,  thought  and  motion." 

3.  Under  his  plastic  power,  columns  rise, — cornice,  frieze, 
and  architrave,  roof  and  dome, — while  within,  curiously  graven 


FIFTH      BOOK.  205 

pillars  sustain  arclies  and  vaults,  fashioned  together,  which 
roll  back  anthems,  that  other  men  of  powers  no  less  transcen- 
dent, have  created  to  thrill,  dilate,  and  ravish  the  soul. 

4.  We  have  in  the  perfect  oration,  the  proportions,  the  sym- 
metry, the  strength,  and  the  imposing  dignity  of  the  architect- 
ural ideal, — whether  it  be  the  simplicity,  noble  plainness,  and 
chastened  severity  of  the  manly  Doric, — the  light  airy  elegance 
and  matron  grace  of  the  Ionic, — the  magnificence  and  luxuriant 
splendor  of  the  rich  Corinthian, — or  the  vastness  and  gloomy 
grandeur  of  the  sublime  Gothic.  To  what  school  of  painting, 
too,  can  we  not  present  a  counterpart  ?  Words  are  themselves 
the  pictures  of  thought,  and,  when  selected  and  combined  with 
the  taste,  skill,  and  spirit  of  a  master,  will  rival  the  excellence 
of  design  and  anatomical  fidelity  of  the  Florentine,  the  ease 
and  expression  of  the  Roman,  or  the  light  and  shade  and  per- 
fect coloring:  of  the  Venetian  schools. 

5.  We  can,  also,  find  in  the  perfect  orator,  the  ability  to  ef- 
fect in  substance  all  that  can  be  effected  by  art  in  musical  per- 
formance. The  Oratorio  in  itself  may  be  admirable.  Its  fall 
effect,  however,  as  a  work  of  art,  must  depend  upon  the  exe- 
cution ;  and  here  it  may  be  aided  immensely  by  instruments. 
But  with  such  materials  as  are  assumed  for  the  orator,  what 
music  has  he  not  created  ?  How  skillfully  and  effectively  has 
he  not  played  upon  thousands  of  those  thousand-stringed 
harps  at  once;  alternately  elevating  and  subduing,  thrilling 
and  soothing,  rousing  them  to  martial  fury,  or  hushing  thein 
into  unbreathing  repose ! 

6.  And  how  far  does  an  orator,  thus  physically  educated, 
surpass  the  highest  achievement  of  the  chisel !  Aye,  was  not 
man  the  great  prototype  of  the  statuary  ?  Was  it  not  when 
he  had  fully  developed  all  these  powers,  by  the  discipline  and 
excitement  of  their  public  games  in  the  Gymnasia'  and  Pa» 
laestrse,  in  wrestling,  running,  and  gladiatorial  combat,  that 
Phidias  and  Praxiteles*  chose  him  as  the  model  of  grace  and 
strength,  attitude  and  expression  ? 

7.  With  reference  to  expression,  also,  the  perfect  orator's 
superiority  in  point  of  variety,  intensity,  and  force,  might  be 


206  SAKDERS'     NEW      SERIES. 

shown  from  the  same  view.  This,  we  are  aware,  is  the  glory 
of  sculpture.  And  in  the  use  of  the  human  form,  there  really 
is  the  opportunity  of  exhibiting  the  working  of  any  passion  or 
emotion.  The  last  choking  pang,  the  maddening  convulsion, 
the  stagnating  circulation,  and  paralytic  death  of  Laocoon,* 
are  legible  and  audible.  There  in  marble  are  the  gaunt  bones, 
the  wrinkled  skin,  and  the  protruding  veins  of  old  age ;  there, 
too,  the  round  finely  articulated  limbs,  the  free  throbbing  buoy- 
ancy and  restless  sporting  of  boyhood. 

8.  It  is  true,  also,  that  in  many  of  these  productions  we 
have,  not  merely  a  single  passion  represented,  but  often  a 
whole  act,  perhaps,  a  whole  life.  Yet,  if  we  carefully  and  con- 
stantly observe  the  living  human  face  and  figure  in  its  most 
perfect  exhibitions,  "  in  form  and  moving  how  express  and  ad- 
mirable !"  In  the  ever-varying  play  of  the  features  lighted 
up  with  joy,  kindled  into  rage,  haggard  and  hideous  with  de- 
spair, erect  and  nervous  with  indignant  scorn,  composed  into 
the  placid  serenity  of  holy  meditation,  or  dumb  with  "  thoughts 
that  often  lie  too  deep  for  tears,"  we  shall  feel,  though  we  can 
not  express  the  wonderful  contrast.  Not  to  mention  the  elo- 
quence of  a  man's  right  arm, — there  are  meanings  which  can  not 
be  spoken  or  painted  in  the  sparkling  fiery  glow, — the  fixed 
riving  gaze,  the  mellow  loveliness,  the  fascinating  side-glance, 
and  sympathetic  tear  of  that  speechless,  but  mighty  coadjutor, 
— a  cultivated  eye. 

9.  They  are  not  permanent,  as  in  marble ;  many  of  them 
may  be  evanescent  as  an  echo,  but  they  are,  in  the  true  orator, 
no  less  effective.  They  are  not  the  passion  petrified,  but  the 
ministers  of  a  soul  struggling  to  give  birth  to  a  great  truth, 
when  language  fails  or  falters.  They  are  the  wings  of  thought, 
and  emotion,  and  passion.  Roscius*  is  said,  in  a  contest  with 
Cicero,  to  have  expressed  by  action  every  thing  which  the  ora- 
tor expressed  in  words.  The  CEdipus  of  Sophocles,*  we  are 
told,  was  performed  at  Rome,  during  the  reign  of  Augustus, 
entirely  by  pantomime,  and  so  admirably  as  to  draw  tears  from 
the  whole  assembly. 

10.  "We  know  little  comparatively  of  the  colossal  grandeur, 


FIFTH     BOOK.  207 

the  boldness,  and  originality  of  tlie  creations  of  ^schylus', — 
the  harmony,  the  humanity,  and  the  perfect  mastery  of  the 
Greek  language,  of  Sophocles ;  the  energy  and  passionate 
out-pourings  of  Milton's  favorite  Euripides/  Nor  can  we 
perceive,  but  as  it  were  afar  off,  the  gigantic  proportions  of 
the  great  poet  of  man,  England's  "  myriad-minded  bard." 
Yet  we  confess  that  the  power  and  productions  of  him 

"  "Whose  resistless  eloquence 
"Wielded  at  will  that  fierce  democracy, — 
Shook  the  arsenal,  and  fulmined  over  Greece 
To  Macedon,  aud  Artaxerxes'  throne," 

to  our  own  mind,  far  transcends  them  all ;  and  if  asked  to 
point  to  the  finest  exhibition  of  intellectual  sublimity  in  the 
world,  we  should  select  out  of  all  others,  Demosthenes  deliv- 
ering THE  ORATION  ON  THE  CROWN, 

11.  It  meets  all  the  demands  we  have  made  of  a  perfect 
work  of  art.  It  is  a  pure  creation  of  the  soul.  It  has  reality 
directly  connected  with  its  origin  and  its  end.  It  has  the  sym- 
metrical proportions  and  masculine  grandeur  of  Doric  archi- 
tecture ;  it  is  painted  with  the  utmost  regard  to  light  and 
shade,  and  color  and  grouping.  In  the  orator,  also,  our  high 
ideal  is  found.  Years  of  intensest  study  and  cultivation  had 
made  the  most  musical  of  all  things, — the  human  voice, — in 
him,  we  have  reason  to  believe,  almost  perfect. 

12.  Dr.  Franklin  sa37s  of  Whitefield®, — "his  delivery  was  sg 
improved  by  repetition,  that  every  accent,  every  emphasis, 
every  modulation  of  voice,  Avas  so  perfectly  tuned  and  well 
placed,  that,  without  being  interested  in  the  subject,  one  could 
not  help  being  pleased  with  the  discourse, — a  pleasure  much 
the  same  kind  with  that  received  from  an  excellent  piece  of 
music ;"  and  Garrick  says  of  him,  that  he  could  make  men 
weep  or  tremble  by  his  varied  utterances  of  the  word,  "  Mes- 
opotamia." 

13.  And  can  we  imagine  that  the  prince  of  orators,  with 
the  most  polished  and  musical  of  all  languages,  would  be  less 
accomplished,  would  be  deficient  at  all  in  this  most  essential 
element?     The  estimate,  too,  which  ho  placed  upon  action, 


208  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

every  school-boy  knows ;  and  having  constantly  before  him  in 
that  palace  of  art,  the  noblest  and  purest  models  of  grace 
and  ease  of  attitude,  expression,  action,  and  repose,  he  must 
here  also  have  been  no  less  perfect. 

"  Behold,  what  fire  is  in  his  eye,  what  fervor  on  his  cheek ; 
That  glorious  burst  of  winged  words  1 — how  bound  they  fi'om  his  tongue  I 
The  full  expression  of  the  mighty  thought, — the  strong  triumphant  argu- 
The  rush  of  native  eloquence,  resistless  as  Niagara, —  [meut, — • 
The  keen  demand, — the  clear  reply, — the  fine  poetic  image, — 
The  nice  analogy, — the  clenching  fact, — the  metaphor  bold  and  free, — 
The  grasp  of  concentrated  intellect  wielduig  the  omnipotence  of  truth." 
»»♦♦-» 

LESSON  hXY* 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  E  tru'  ri  an,  or  Tus'  can,  is  a  word  derived 
from  Etruria,  the  name  of  a  province  of  Italy,  corresponding  nearly  with 
Tuscany,  the  river  Tiber  forming  its  southern  and  south-eastern  boundary. 
It  was  tlie  most  enUghtened  country  of  Italy,  and  was  in  the  hight  of  its 
glory  at  the  time  Rome  was  being  built. 

2.  Tiv'  0  LI  is  the  capital  of  a  district,  situated  eighteen  miles  north-east 
of  Rome,  where  the  river  Teverone  precipitates  itself  100  feet  at  one  fall. 
It  is  remarkable  for  its  beautiful  situation  and  classical  associations. 

3.  Yir'  GIL  has  been  styled  the  prince  of  Latin  poets.  He  was  bom 
seventy  years  before  Christ. 

4.  CuRULE  means  pertaining  to  a  chariot.  Among  the  Romans,  the 
curule  chair  or  seat  was  without  a  back,  and  was  carried  in  a  chariot, 
and  occupied  by  public  officers. 

5.  Phe'nix  is  a  fabulous  fowl,  represented  to  be  the  size  of  an  eagle, 
wMch  is  said  to  rise  again  from  its  own  ashes. 

6.  JE'  Gis  is  a  shield  or  defensive  armor.  In  a  figurative  sense,  it  means 
protection. 

RESTORATION  OF  THE  WORKS  OF  ART  TO  ITALY. 

MRS.    HEMANS. 

1.  Land  of  departed  fame!  whose  classic  plains 
Have  proudly  echoed  to  immortal  strains ; 
Whose  hallowed  soil  hath  given  the  great  and  brave — ■ 
Day-stars  of  life — a  birth-place  and  a  grave ; 
Home  of  the  Arts !  where  glory's  faded  smile 
Sheds  lingering  light  o'er  many  a  moldering  pile ; 
Proud  wreck  of  vanished  power,  of  splendor  fled, 
Majestic  temple  of  the  mighty  dead  ! 


FIFTH    BOOK.  209 

I 

Whose  grandeur,  yet  contending  with  decay, 
Gleams  through  the  twilight  of  thy  glorious  day ; 
Though  dimmed  thy  brightness,  riveted  thy  chain, 
Yet,  fallen  Italy !  rejoice  again  ! 

2.  Awake,  ye  Muses  of  Etrurian^  shades, 
Or  sacred  Tivoli's"  romantic  glades ; 
Wake,  ye  that  slumber  in  the  bowery  gloom, 
Where  the  wild  ivy  shadows  Virgil's^  tomb ; 
If  yet  by  classic  streams  ye  fondly  rove. 
Haunting  the  myrtle  vale,  the  laurel  grove ; 

(°°)  Oh !  rouse  once  more  the  daring  soul  of  song, 
Seize  with  bold  hand  the  harp,  forgot  so  long, 
And  hail,  with  wonted  pride,  those  works  revered. 
Hallowed  by  time,  by  absence  more  endeared. 

3.  Ye,  at  whose  voice  fair  Art,  Avith  eagle  glance. 
Burst  in  full  splendor  from  her  death-like  trance  ; 
Whose  rallying  call  bade  slumbering  nations  wake, 
And  daring  Intellect  his  bondage  break  ; 
Beneath  whose  eye  the  lords  of  song  arose. 

And  snatched  the  Tuscan'  lyre  from  long  repose, 
And  bade  its  pealing  energies  resound. 
With  power  electric,  through  the  realms  around  ; 
(<)  0,  high  in  thought,  magnificent  in  soul ! 
Born  to  inspire,  enlighten,  and  control ! 
O,  rise  and  view  your  glorious  reign  once  more, 
The  shrine  where  nations  mingfle  to  adore ! 

4.  There  thou,*  fair  offspring  of  immortal  Mind  ! 
Love's  radiant  goddess,  idol  of  mankind ! 
Once  the  bright  object  of  Devotion's  vow, 
Shalt  claim  from  taste  a  kindred  homage  now. 
Oh  !  who  can  tell  what  beams  of  heavenly  light, 
Flashed  o'er  the  sculptor's  intellectual  sight ; 
How  many  a  glimpse,  revealed  to  him  alone,    • 
Made  brighter  beings,  nobler  worlds,  his  own ; 


*  Eeference  is  here  had  to  Sculpture. 


210'  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Ere,  like  some  vision  sent  the  earth  to  bless, 
Burst  into  life  thy  pomp  of  loveliness ! 

5.  Young  Genius  there,  ■while  dwells  his  kindling  eye 
On  forms,  instinct  with  bright  divinity, — 
While  new-born  powers,  dilating  in  his  heart, 
Embrace  the  full  magnificence  of  Art ; 

From  scenes,  by  Raphael's*  gifted  hand  arrayed, 
From  dreams  of  heaven,  by  Angelo  portrayed  ; 
From  each  fair  work  of  Grecian  skill  sublime. 
Sealed  with  perfection,  "  sanctified  by  time  ;" 
Shall  catch  a  kindred  glow,  and  proudly  feel 
His  spirit  burn  with  emulative  zeal ; 
Buoyant  with  loftier  hopes,  his  soul  shall  rise, 
Imbued  at  once  with  nobler  energies ; 
O'er  life's  dim  scenes  on  rapid  pinions  soar, 
And  worlds  of  visionary  grace  explore ; 
Till  his  bold  hand  give  glory's  day-dream  birth, 
And  with  new  wonders  charm  admiring  earth. 

6.  Venice,  exult !  and  o'er  thy  moonlight  seas, 
Swell  with  gay  strains  each  Adriatic  breeze ! 
What  though  long  fled  those  years  of  martial  fame, 
That  shed  romantic  luster  o'er  thy  name ; 
Though  quenched  the  spirit  of  thine  ancient  race, 
And  power  and  freedom  scarce  have  left  a  trace ; 
Yet  still  shall  Art  her  splendors  round  thee  cast, 
And  gild  the  wreck  of  years  forever  past. 

V.  And  thou,  whose  Eagle's  towering  plume  unfurled, 
Once  cast  its  shadow  o'er  a  vassal  world, 
Eternal  city  !f  round  -whose  curule*  throne, 
The  lords  of  nations  knelt  in  ages  flown  ; 
Thou,  whose  AugustanJ  years  have  left  to  time 
Immortal  records  of  their  glorious  prime  ; 
When  deathless  bards,  thine  olive-shades  among. 
Swelled  the  high  raptures  of  heroic  song; 

*  Consult  Note  1,  p.  105.  f  Rome.  J  See  Note  5,  p.  104 


FIFTH     BOOK.  211 

Fair,  fallen  Empress !  raise  tliy  languid  head 
From  the  cold  altars  of  th'  illustrious  dead, 
And  once  again,  with  fond  delight,  survey, 
The  proud  memorials  of  thy  noblest  day, 

8.  Lo  !  where  thy  sons,  0  Rome  !  a  godlike  train, 
In  imaged  majesty  return  again  ! 

Bards,  chieftains,  monarchs,  tower  with  mien  august, 
O'er  scenes  that  shrine  their  venerable  dust ; 
Those  forms,  those  features,  luminous  with  soul, 
Still  o'er  thy  children  seem  to  claim  control ; 
With  awful  grace  arrest  the  pilgrim's  glance, 
Bind  his  rapt  soul  in  elevating  trance. 
And  bid  the  past,  to  fancy's  ardent  eyes, 
From  time's  dim  sepulcher  in  glory  rise. 

9.  Souls  of  the  lofty  !  whose  undying  names, 
Rouse  the  young  bosom  still  to  noblest  aims; 
Oh  !  with  your  images  could  fate  restore 
Your  own  high  spirit  to  your  sons  once  more, 
Patriots  and  heroes  !   could  those  flames  return, 
That  bade  your  hearts  with  freedom's  ardor  burn, 
Then  from  the  sacred  ashes  of  the  first. 

Might  a  new  Rome  in  Phenix*  grandeur  burst ! 
With  one  bright  glance  dispel  th'  horizon's  gloom ; 
With  one  loud  call,  wake  Empire  from  the  tomb ; 
Bind  round  her  brows  her  own  triumphal  crown. 
Lift  her  dread  ^gis°  with  majestic  frown, 
Unchain  her  Eagle's  wing,  and  guide  his  flight, 
To  bathe  his  plumage  in  the  fount  of  light. 


LESSON    LXYU 


Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Red  Jacket  was  a  famous  Indian  chief  of 
the  Seneca  nation,  who  lived  near  Buffalo.  He  was  distinguished  for  his 
extraordinary  eloquence.  At  one  time  he  was  hostile  to  the  interests  of 
the  Americans,  but  afterward  became  warmly  attached  to  them. 

2.  Tecum'seh  was  a  Shawnee  chief;  distinguished  for  his  vivid  and 
powerful  eloquence,  and  his  constant  and  bitter  enmity  toward  the  whites, 


212  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

actuated  by  disinterested  patriotism  in  bebalf  of  bis  own  country  and 
people.  He  was  successful  in  forming,  to  a  great  extent,  a  union  of  all 
the  Western  Indians  against  the  Americans,  and,  in  the  war  of  1812,  he 
proved  a  formidable  ally  of  the  British,  against  the  Americans.  He  was 
exemplary  through  life  in  his  habits  of  temperance  and  adherence  to  truth. 
He  was  killed  in  the  decisive  battle  of  the  Moravian  towns. 

3.  Cal'  it  'met  is  the  Indian  pipe  of  peace.  On  all  occasions  when  In- 
dian chiefs  or  warriors  meet  in  peace,  or  at  the  close  of  a  war,  or  in  their 
talks  and  treaties,  the  calumet  is  handed  round,  and  each  one  smokes  a 
few  whiffs.     To  accept  it,  is  to  agree  to  terms  proposed ;  to  refuse  it,  is  to 

reject  them. 

INDIAN    ELOQUENCE. 

1.  A  FEW  suns  more,  and  the  Indian  will  live  only  in  his- 
tory, A  few  centuries,  and  that  history  will  be  colored  with 
the  mellow  romantic  light,  in  which  time  robes  the  past,  and 
contrasted  with  the  then  present  wealth  and  splendor  of 
America,  may  seem  so  impossible,  as  to  elicit  from  the  histo- 
rian a  philosophic  doubt  of  its  authenticity.  The  period  may 
arrive  when  the  same  uncertainty  which  hangs  over  the  heroic 
days  of  every  people,  may  attend  its  records,  and  the  stirring 
deeds  of  the  battle-field  and  council-fire,  may  be  regarded  as 
attractive  fictions, — at  the  best,  as  beautiful  exaggerations, 

2.  As  an  engrossing  subject  to  an  American,  as  coming  to 
us  the  only  relic  of  the  literature  of  the  Aborigines,  and  the 
most  perfect  emblem  of  their  character,  their  glory,  and  their 
intellect,  we  should  dearly  cherish  the  remains  of  their  oratory. 
In  these  we  see  developed  the  motives  which  animated  their 
actions,  and  the  light  and  shadows  of  their  very  soul.  The 
iron  incasement  of  apparent  apathy,  in  which  the  savage  had 
fortified  himself,  impenetrable  at  ordinary  moments,  is  laid 
aside  in  the  council-room.  The  genius  of  eloquence  bursts  the 
arbitrary  bands  of  custom,  and  the  Indian  stands  forth  access- 
ible, natural,  and  legible.  We  commune  with  him,  listen  to 
his  complaints,  understand,  appreciate,  and  even  feel  his  in- 
juries. 

3.  As  Indian  Eloquonce  is  the  key  to  their  character,  so  is  it 
a  noble  monument  of  their  literature.  Oratory  seldom  finds 
a  more  auspicious  field.  A  wild  people,  with  an  ample  region 
for  thought,  forbade  feebleness, — uncultivated, — but  intelligent 


FIFTH     BOOK.  213 

and  sensitive,  a  purity  of  idea,  chastely  combined  with  energy 
of  expression,  a  ready  fluency,  and  imagery, — now  exquisitely 
delicate,  now  soaring  to  the  sublime, — all  united  to  rival  the 
efforts  of  any  ancient  or  modern  orator. 

4.  'NMiat  can  be  imagined  more  impressive,  than  a  warrior 
rising  in  the  council-room  to  address  those  who  bore  the  same 
scarred  marks  of  their  title  to  fame  and  the  chieftainship  ? 
The  dignified  stature,  the  easy  repose  of  limbs,  the  graceful 
gesture,  the  dark  speaking  eye,  excite  equal  admiration  and 
expectation.  We  would  anticipate  eloquence  from  an  Indian. 
He  has  animating  remembrances, — a  poverty  of  language, 
which  exacts  rich  and  apposite  metaphorical  allusions,  even  for 
ordinary  conversation, — a  mind  which,  like  his  body,  has  never 
been  trammeled  and  mechanized  by  the  formalities  of  society, — 
and  passions  which,  from  the  very  outward  restraint  imposed 
upon  them,  burn  more  fiercely  within.  There  is  a  mine  of 
truth  in  the  reply  of  Red  Jacket,*  when  called  a  warrior ; — "A 
warrior  /"  said  he  ;  "I  am  an  orator — I  was  horn  an  orator." 

5.  There  are  not  many  speeches  remaining  on  record,  but, 
even  in  this  small  number,  there  is  such  a  rich  and  varied  vein 
of  all  the  characteristics  of  true  eloquence,  that  we  rise  from 
their  perusnl  with  regret  that  so  few  have  been  preserved.  No- 
where can  be  found  a  poetic  thought,  clothed  in  more  captiva- 
ting simplicity  of  expression,  than  in  the  answer  of  Tecumseh' 
to  Governor  Harrison,  in  the  conference  at  Vincennes.  It 
contains  a  high  moral  rebuke,  and  a  sarcasm,  hightened  in 
eff"ect  bv  an  evident  consciousness  of  loftiness  above  the  reach 
of  insult. 

6.  At  the  close  of  his  address,  he  found  that  no  chair  had 
been  placed  for  him, — a  neglect  which  Governor  Harrison  or- 
dered to  be  remedied  as  soon  as  discovered.  Suspecting,  per- 
haps, that  it  was  more  an  aftront  than  a  mistake,  with  an  air 
of  dignity,  elevated  almost  to  haughtiness,  he  declined  the 
seat,  proftered  with  the  words,  "  Your  father  requests  you  to 
take  a  chair,"  and  answered,  as  he  calmly  disposed  himself  on 
the  ground  :  "  My  father  !  The  sun  is  my  father,  and  the 
earth  is  my  mother.     I  will  repose  on  her  bosom." 


214  SANDEBS'     NEW     SERIES. 

7.  We  can  uot  give  a  better  idea  of  the  effect  of  their 
harangues  upon  their  own  people,  and  at  the  same  time  a 
finer  instance  of  their  gratefulness,  when  skillfully  touched, 
than  in  the  address  to  the  Wallah  Wallahs  by  their  young 
chief,  the  Morning  Star.  In  consequence  of  the  death  of 
several  of  their  tribe,  killed  in  one  of  their  predatory  excur- 
sions against  the  whites,  they  had  collected  in  a  large  body, 
for  the  purpose  of  assailing  them.  The  stern  uncompromi- 
sing hostility,  with  which  they  were  animated,  may  be  imag- 
ined from  the  words  they  chanted  on  approaching  to  the 
attack. 

8.  "  Rest,  brothers,  rest !  You  will  be  avenged.  The  tears 
of  your  widows  will  cease  to  flow,  when  they  behold  the  blood 
of  your  murderers,  and  on  seeing  their  scalps,  your  children 
shall  sing  and  leap  for  joy.  Rest,  brothers,  in  peace  !  Rest, 
we  shall  have  blood  !"  The  last  strains  of  the  death-song  had 
died  away.  The  gleaming  eye,  burning  with  the  desire  of  re- 
venge,— the  countenance,  fierce  even  through  an  Indian's 
cloak, — the  leveled  gun  and  poised  arrow, — forbade  promise 
of  peace,  and  their  superior  force  as  little  hope  of  successful 
resistance. 

9.  x\t  this  moment  of  awful  excitement,  a  mounted  troop 
burst  in  between  them,  and  its  leader  addressed  his  kindred  : 
"  Friends  and  relations  1  Three  snows  have  only  passed  over 
our  heads,  since  we  were  a  poor,  miserable  people.  Our 
enemies  were  numerous  and  powerful ;  we  were  few  and 
weak.  Our  hearts  were  as  the  hearts  of  children.  We  could 
not  fight  like  warriors,  and  were  driven  like  deer  about  the 
plain.  When  the  thunder  rolled,  and  the  rains  poured,  wo 
had  no  place  but  the  rocks,  whereon  we  could  lay  our  heads. 

10.  "  Is  such  the  case  now  ?  No  !  we  have  regained  posses- 
sion of  the  land  of  our  fathers,  in  which  they  and  their  fa- 
thers' fathers  lie  buried ;  our  hearts  are  great  within  us,  and 
we  are  now  a  nation.  Who  has  produced  this  change  ?  The 
white  man  !  And  are  we  to  treat  him  with  ingratitude  ?  The 
warrior,  with  the  strong  arm  and  great  heart,  will  never  rob  a 
frienciy     The  result  was  wonderful.     There  was  a  complete 


FIFTH     BOOK.  215 

revulsion  of  feeling.  The  angry  waves  were  quieted,  and  the 
savage,  forgetting  his  emnity,  smoked  the  calumet'  with  those 
whom  the  eloquence  of  Morning  Star  alone  had  saved  from 
his  scalping-knife. 

11.  View  the  evidences  of  their  attachment  to  the  customs 
of  their  fathers,  and  of  their  heroic  resolution  to  leave  their 
bones  in  the  forests  where  they  were  born,  and  then  revert  to 
their  unavailing,  hopeless  resistance  against  tha  march  of  civ- 
ilization,— and  though  we  know  it  is  the  rightful,  natural  course 
of  things, — yet  it  is  a  hard  heart  which  does  not  feel  for  their 
fate.  Turn  to  Red  Jacket's  graphic  description  of  the  fraud 
which  purloined  their  territory,  and  shame  mingles  Avith  our 
pity. 

12.  "Brothers,  at  the  treaties  held  for  the  purchase  of  our 
lands,  the  white  men,  with  sweet  voices  and  smiling  faces,  told 
us  they  loved  us,  and  they  would  not  cheat  us,  but  that  the 
king's  children  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake,  would  cheat  us. 
When  we  go  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake,  the  king's  children 
tell  us  your  people  will  cheat  us.  These  things  puzzle  our 
heads,  and  we  believe  that  the  Indians  must  take  care  of  them- 
selves, and  not  trust  either  in  your  people,  or  the  kincr's  chil- 
dren. Brothers,  our  seats  were  once  large,  and  yours  very 
small.  You  have  now  become  a  great  people,  and  we  have 
scarcely/  a  place  left  to  spread  our  blankets." 

13.  Some  of  the  speeches  of  Shenandoah,  a  celebrated 
Oneida  chief,  contain  the  truest  touches  of  natural  eloquence. 
He  lived  to  a  great  age  ;  and  in  his  last  oration  in  council,  he 
opened  with  the  following  sublime  and  beautiful  sentence  : 
"  Brothers, — I  am  an  aged  hemlock.  The  winds  of  a  hundred 
winters  have  whistled  through  my  branches,  and  I  am  dead  at 
the  top."  Every  reader  who  has  seen  a  tall  hemlock,  with  a 
dry  and  leafless  top  surmounting  its  dark  green  foliage,  will 
feel  the  force  of  the  simile:  "/  a7n  dead  at  the  top."  His 
memory,  and  all  the  vigorous  powers  of  youth,  had  departed 
forever. 

14.  Not  less  felicitous  was  the  close  of  a  speech  made  by 
Push  ma  ta'  ha,  a  venerable  chief  of  a  western  tribe,  at  a  coun- 


216  SANDERS'      NEW      SERIES. 

cil  held  in  Washington,  many  years  since.  In  alluding  to  his 
extreme  age,  and  to  the  probability  that  he  might  not  even 
survive  the  journey  back  to  his  tribe,  he  said  :  "  My  children 
will  walk  through  the  forests,  and  the  Great  Spirit  will  whis- 
per in  the  tree-tops,  and  the  flowers  will  spring  up  in  the 
trails, — but  Push  ma  ta'  ha  will  hear  not, — he  will  see  the 
flowers  no  more.  He  will  be  gone.  His  people  will  know  that 
he  is  dead.  The  news  will  come  to  their  ears,  as  the  sound  of 
the  fall  of  a  mighty  oak  in  the  stillness  of  the  woods^ 

15.  Their  actions  may  outlive,  but  their  oratory  must  sur- 
vive their  fate.  It  contains  many  attributes  of  true  eloquence. 
With  a  language  too  barren,  and  minds  too  free  for  the  rules 
of  rhetoric,  they  still  attained  the  power  of  touching  the  feel- 
ings, and  a  sublimity  of  style,  which  rivals  the  highest  produc- 
tions of  their  more  cultivated  enemies.  Expression,  apt  and 
pointed, — language,  strong  and  figurative, — comparisons,  rich 
and  bold, — descriptions,  correct  and  picturesque, — and  ges- 
tures, energetic  and  graceful, — were  the  most  striking  pecu- 
liarities of  their  oratory. 

16.  These  orations,  the  accurate  mirrors  of  their  character, 
their  bravery,  immovable  stoicism,  and  their  native  grandeur, 
hightened  as  they  are  in  expressiveness  by  the  melancholy  ac- 
companiment of  approaching  extermination,  will  he  as  endu- 
ring as  the  swan-like  music  of  Attican  and  Roman  eloquence, 
which  was  the  funeral  song  of  the  liberties  of  those  repub- 
lics. 

a  m  •  m  * 

LESSON  LXVIU 

Explanatory  Note. — 1.  In  the  spring  of  1832,  several  tribes  of  In- 
dians on  the  north-western  frontier,  commenced  a  war  upon  the  whites, 
on  account  of  attempts  to  drive  them  from  their  lands  which  had  been 
sold  to  the  United  States,  without  the  consent  of  all  concerned.  The 
party  opposed,  headed  by  Black  Hawk,  determined  not  to  remove. 

The  Indians,  however,  were  defeated  after  a  battle  of  upward  of  three 
hours.  Black  Hawk  escaped,  but  afterward  voluntarily  gave  himself  up 
a  prisoner  of  war,  at  Prairie  Du  Chien,  Aug.  27,  1832,  on  which  occasion 
he  delivered  the  following  speech,  which,  though  it  does  not  breathe  the 
Christian  spirit  of  forgiveuess,  yet  bespeaks  a  nobleness  which,  under  the 
circumstances,  could  hardly  be  expected  from  an  untutored  Indian. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  217 


SPEECH  OP  BLACK  HAWK, 


1.  You  have  taken  me  prisoner  with  all  my  warriors.  lam 
much  griev'od  ;  for  I  expected,  if  I  did  not  defeat  you,  to  hold 
out  much  longer,  and  give  you  more  trouble  before  I  surren- 
dered. I  tried  hard  to  bring  you  into  ambush,  but  your  last 
general*  understands  Indian  fighting.  I  determined  to  rush 
on  you,  and  fight  you  face  to  face  ;  I  fought  hard.  But  your 
guns  were  well  aimed.  The  bullets  flew  like  birds  in  the  air, 
and  whizzed  by  our  ears  like  the  wind  through  the  trees  in 
winter. 

2.  M)"^  warriors  fell  around  me ;  it  began  to  look  dismal.  I 
saw  my  evil  day  at  hand.  The  sun  rose  dim  on  us  in  the 
morning,  and,  at  night,  it  sank  in  a  dark  cloud,  and  looked  like 
a  ball  of  fire.  That  was  the  last  sun  that  shone  on  Black 
Hawk.  His  heart  is  dead,  and  no  longer  beats  quick  in  his 
bosom.  He  is  now  a  prisoner  to  the  white  men  ;  they  will  do 
with  him  as  they  wish.  But  he  can  stand  torture,  and  is  not 
afraid  of  death.     He  is  no  coward.     Black  Hawk  is  an  In' 

DIAN. 

3.  He  has  done  nothing,  for  which  an  Indian  ought  to  be 
ashamed.  He  has  fought  for  his  countrymen,  against  white 
men  who  came,  year  after  year,  to  cheat  them,  and  take  away 
their  lands.  You  know  the  cause  of  our  making  war.  It  is 
known  to  all  white  men.  They  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  it. 
The  white  men  despise  the  Indians,  and  di'ive  them  from  their 
homes.  But  the  Indians  are  not  deceitful.  The  white  men 
speak  bad  of  the  Indian,  and  look  at  him  spitefully.  But  the 
Indian  does  not  tell  lies ;  Indians  do  not  steal. 

4.  An  Indian  who  is  as  bad  as  the  white  men,  could  not 
live  in  our  nation  ;  he  would  be  put  to  death,  and  be  eaten  up 
by  wolves.  The  white  men  are  bad  schoolmasters  ;  they  carry 
false  looks,  and  deal  in  false  actions  ;  they  smile  in  the  face  of 
the  poor  Indian  to  cheat  him  ;  they  shake  him  by  the  hand 
to  gain  his  confidence,  to  make  him  drunk,  and  to  deceive  him. 
We  told  them  to  let  us  alone,  and  keep  away  from  us ;  but  they 

*  General  Atkiuson. 
10 


218  SANDERS'     NEW     SERUMS. 

followed  on,  and  beset  our  paths,  and  they  coiled  themselves 
among  us,  like  the  snake.     They  poisoned  us  by  their  touch. 

5.  We  were  not  safe.  We  lived  in  danger.  We  were  be- 
coming like  them,  hypocrites  and  liars, — all  talkers  and  no 
workers.  We  looked  up  to  the  Great  Spirit.  We  went  to 
our  father.*  We  were  encouraged.  His  great  Council  gave 
lis  fair  words  and  big  promises,  but  we  obtained  no  satisfaction, 
— things  were  growing  worse.  There  were  no  deer  in  the 
forest.  The  opossum  and  beaver  were  fled  ;  the  springs  were 
drying  up,  and  our  people  were  without  victuals  to  keep  them 
from  starving. 

6.  We  called  a  great  council,  and  made  a  large  fire.  The 
spirit  of  our  fathers  arose  and  spoke  to  us  to  avenge  our  wrongs 
or  die.  We  all  spoke  before  the  council-fire.  It  was  warm 
and  pleasant.  We  set  up  the  war  whoop,  and  dug  up  the  tom- 
ahawk ;  our  knives  were  ready,  and  the  heart  of  Black  Hawk 
swelled  high  in  his  bosom,  when  he  led  his  warriors  to  battle. 
He  is  satisfied.  He  will  go  to  the  world  of  spirits  contented. 
He  has  done  his  duty.  His  father  will  meet  him  there,  and 
commend  him. 

7.  Black  Hawk  is  a  true  Indian,  and  disdains  to  cry  like  a 
woman.  He  feels  for  his  wife,  his  children,  and  his  friends. 
But  he  does  not  care  for  himself.  He  cares  for  the  nation  and 
the  Indians.  They  will  sufi"er.  He  laments  their  fate.  The 
white  men  do  not  scalp  the  heads  ;  but  they  do  worse, — they 
poison  the  heart  ;  it  is  not  pure  with  them.  His  countrymen 
will  not  be  scalped^  but  they  will,  in  a  few  years,  become  like 
the  white  men,  so  that  you  can  not  trust  them  ;  and  there  must 
be,  as  in  the  white  settlements,  nearly  as  many  officers  as  men, 
to  take  care  of  them,  and  keep  them  in  order. 

8.  Farewell,  my  nation  !  Black  Hawk  tried  to  save  you, 
and  avenge  your  wrongs.  He  drank  the  blood  of  some  of  the 
whites.  He  has  been  taken  prisoner,  and  his  plans  are  stopped. 
He  can  do  no  more  !  He  is  near  his  end.  His  sun  is  setting, 
and  he  will  rise  no  more.     Farewell  to  Black  Hawk  ! 

*  "  iTii^er"  here  refers  to  the  PresujBNT  of  the  United  States;  and 
"his  eouncil,"  to  the  Congress. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  219 

LESSON  LXVnu 
THE  INDIAN  HUNTER. 

ELIZA   COOK. 

1.  Oh!  why  does  the  white  man  follow  my  path, 

Like  the  hound  on  the  tiger's  track  ? 
Does  the  flush  on  my  dark  cheek  waken  his  wrath, — 
Does  he  covet  the  bow  at  my  back  ? 

2.  He  has  rivers  and  seas,  where  the  billows  and  breeze 

Bear  riches  for  him  alone; 
And  the  sons  of  the  wood  never  plunge  in  the  flood, 
Which  the  white  man  calls  his  own. 

3.  Why,  then,  should  he  come  to  the  streams  where  none 

But  the  red  man  dares  to  swim  ? 
Why,  why  should  he  wrong  the  hunter, — one 
Who  never  did  harm  to  him  ? 

4.  The  Father  above  thought  fit  to  give 

The  white  man  corn  and  wine  ; 
There  are  golden  fields  where  he  may  live, 
But  the  forest  shades  are  mine, 

5.  The  Eagle  hath  its  place  of  rest ; 

The  wild  horse — where  to  dwell; 
And  the  Spirit  that  gave  the  bird  its  nest, 
Made  me  a  home  as  well. 

6.  Then  back !  go  back  from  the  red  man's  track ; 

For  the  hunter's  eyes  grow  dim, 
To  find  that  the  white  man  wrongs  the  one 
Who  never  did  harm  to  him. 


LESSON   LXIX* 

THE  DYING  ARCHER. 

R.  C.  WATERSTOIf. 

The  day  has  near  ended,  the  light  quivers  through 
The  leaves  of  the  forest,  which  bend  with  the  dew ; 
The  flowers  bow  in  beauty,  the  smooth-flowing  stream 
Is  gliding  as  softly  as  thoughts  in  a  dream ; 


220  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

The  low  room  is  darkened,  there  breathes  not  a  sound, 
While  friends,  in  their  sadness,  are  gathering  round  ; 
Now  out  speaks  the  Archer ;  his  course  well  nigh  done, 
(z=)  "  Throw,  throw  back  the  lattice,  and  let  in  the  sun." 

2.  The  lattice  is  opened ;  and  now  the  blue  sky 
Brings  joy  to  his  bosom,  and  fire  to  his  eye  ; 

There  stretches  the  greenwood,  where,  year  after  year, 
He  "  chased  the  wild  roe-buck,  and  followed  the  deer." 
He  gazed  upon  mountain,  and  forest,  and  dell, 
(^.)  Then  bowed  he,  in  sorrow,  a  silent  farewell ! 

"  And  when  we  are  parted,  and  when  thou  art  dead, 
Oh !  where  shall  we  lay  thee  ?"  his  followers  said. 

3.  Then  up  rose  the  Archer,  and  gazed  once  again 
On  far-reaching  mountain,  and  river,  and  plain ; 

(°)  "  Now  bring  me  my  quiver,  and  tighten  my  bow, 
And  let  the  winged  arrow  my  sepulcher  show !" 
(z=:)  Out,  out  through  the  lattice  the  arrow  has  passed, 
And  in  the  far  forest  has  lighted  at  last ; 
"  And  there  shall  the  hunter  in  slumber  be  laid. 
Where  wild  deer  are  bounding  beneath  the  green  shade." 

4.  His  last  words  are  finished  ; — his  spirit  hath  fled, 
{pi.)  And  now  lies  in  silence  the  form  of  the  dead. 

The  lamps  in  the  chamber  are  flickering  dim. 
And  sadly  the  mourners  are  chanting  their  hymn ; 
And  now  to  the  greenwood,  and  now  on  the  sod. 
Where  lighted  the  arrow,  the  mourners  have  trod  ; 
And  thus  by  the  river,  where  dark  forests  wave. 
That  noble  old  Archer  hath  found  him  a  grave. 


"  As  the  light  leaf,  whose  fall  to  ruin  bears 
Some  trembling  insect's  little  world  of  cares. 
Descends  in  silence, —while  around  waves  on 
The  mighty  forest,  reckless  what  is  gone  ! 
Such  is  man's  doom, — and  ere  an  hour  be  flown. 
Start,  not,  then  trifler  ! — such  may  be  thine  own !" 


FIFTH     BOOK.  221 

LESSON    LXX* 

Note. — The  following  speech  of  Black  Thun'der,  generally  styled  the 
patriarch  of  the  Fox  Tribe,  was  delivered  before  the  American  Commis- 
sioners who  had  assembled  many  chiefs,  at  a  place  caDed  the  Portage. 
He  arose  and  addressed  himself  to  the  Commissioner  who  had  opened  the 
council  r 

SPEECH   OF   BLACK   THUNDER. 

1.  My  father,  restrain  your  feelings,  and  hear  calmly  what 
I  shall  say.  I  shall  say  it  plainly.  I  shall  not  speak  with 
fear  and  trembling.  I  have  never  injured  you,  and  innocence 
can  feel  no  fear.  I  turn  to  you  all,  red  men  and  white  men, — 
where  is  the  man  who  will  appear  as  my  accuser  ?  Father,  I 
understand  not  clearly  how  things  are  working.  I  have  just 
been  set  at  liberty.  Am  I  again  to  be  plunged  into  bondage  ? 
But  I  am  incapable  of  change.  You  may,  perhaps,  be  ignor- 
ant of  what  I  tell  you ;  but  it  is  a  truth,  which  I  call  Heaven 
and  earth  to  witness. 

2.  It  is  a  fact  which  can  easily  be  proved,  that  I  have  been 
assailed  in  almost  every  possible  way  that  pride,  fear,  feeling, 
or  interest,  could  touch  me, — that  I  have  been  pushed  to  the 
last  to  raise  the  tomahawk  against  you, — but  all  in  vain.  I 
never  could  be  made  to  feel  that  you  were  my  enemy.  If  this 
be  the  conduct  of  an  enemy,  I  shall  never  be  your  friend. 

3.  You  are  acquainted  with  my  removal  from  Prairie  Du 
Chien.  I  went  and  formed  a  settlement,  and  called  my  war- 
riors around.  We  took  counsel,  and  from  that  counsel  we 
have  never  departed.  We  smoked  and  resolved  to  make  com- 
mon cause  with  the  United  States.  I  sent  you  the  pipe, — it 
resembled  this, — and  I  sent  it  by  the  Missouri,  that  the  In- 
dians of  the  Mississippi  might  not  know  what  we  were  doing. 
You  received  it.  I  then  told  you  that  your  friends  should  be 
my  friends, — that  your  enemies  should  be  my  enemies, — and 
that  I  only  aw'aiteal  your  signal  to  make  war.  If  this  be  the 
conduct  of  an  enemy,  I  shall  never  be  your  friend. 

4.  Why  do  I  tell  you  this  ?  Because  it  is  a  truth,  and  a 
melancholy  truth,   that  the  good  things  which  men  do,  are 


222  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

often  buried  in  the  ground,  while  their  evil  deeds  are  stripped 
naked,  and  exposed  to  the  world.  When  I  came  here,  I  came 
to  you  in  friendship.  I  little  thought  I  should  have  to  defend 
myself.  I  have  no  defense  to  make.  If  I  were  guilty,  I 
should  have  come  prepared ;  but  I  have  ever  held  you  by  the 
hand,  and  I  am  come  without  excuses. 

5.  If  I  had  fought  against  you,  I  would  have  told  you  so ; 
but  I  have  nothing  now  to  say  here  in  your  council,  except  to 
repeat  what  I  said  before  to  my  Great  Father,  the  President 
of  your  nation.  You  heard  it,  and  no  doubt  remember  it^ 
It  was  simply  this.  My  lands  can  never  be  surrendered  :  I  was 
cheated,  and  basely  cheated,  in  the  contract ;  I  will  not  surren- 
der ray  country,  but  with  my  life. 

6.  Again,  I  call  Heaven  and  earth  to  witness,  and  I  smoke 
this  pipe  in  evidence  of  my  sincerity.  If  you  are  sincere,  you 
will  receive  it  fiom  me.  My  only  desire  is,  that  we  should 
smoke  it  together — that  I  should  grasp  your  sacred  hand ;  and 
I  claim  for  myself  and  my  tribe  the  protection  of  your  country. 
When  this  pipe  touches  your  lip,  may  it  operate  as  a  blessing 
upon  all  my  tribe.  May  the  smoke  rise  like  a  cloud,  and 
carry  away  with  it  all  the  animosities  which  have  arisen  be- 
twep-u  us. 


LESSON  LXXU 

THE  AGED  INDIAN'S  LAMENT. 

MRS.  HEMANS. 

1.  Warriors  !  my  noon  of  life  is  past, 

The  brightness  of  my  spirit  flown  ; 
I  crouch  before  the  wintry  blast. 

Amidst  my  tribe  I  dwell  alone ; 
The  heroes  of  my  youth  are  fled, 
They  rest  among  the  warlike  dead. 

2.  Ye  slumberers  of  the  narrow  cave  ! 

My  kindred  chiefs  in  days  of  yore  ! 
Ye  fill  an  unremembered  grave. 
Your  fame,  your  deeds,  are  known  no  more. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  223 

The  records  of  your  wars  are  gone, 
Your  names  forgot  by  all  but  one. 

5.  Soon  shall  that  one  depart  from  earth, 

To  join  the  brethren  of  his  prime  ; 
Then  will  the  memory  of  your  birth. 

Sleep  with  the  hidden  things  of  time. 
With  him,  ye  sons  of  former  days  ! 
Fades  the  last  glimm'ring  of  your  praise. 

4.  His  eyes,  that  hailed  your  spirits'  flame, 
Still  kindling  in  the  combat's  shock, 

Have  seen,  since  darkness  vailed  your  fame, 
Sons  of  the  desert  and  the  rock, — 

Another,  and  another  race. 

Rise  to  the  battle  and  the  chase. 

6.  Descendants  of  the  mighty  dead  ! 

Fearless  of  heart  and  firm  of  hand ! 
O !  let  me  join  their  spirits  fled, 

O !  send  me  to  their  shadowy  land- 
Age  hath  not  tamed  Ontara's  heart, 
He  shrinks  not  from  the  friendly  dart. 

6.  These  feet  no  more  can  chase  the  deer, 

The  glory  of  his  arm  is  flown ; 
Why  should  the  feeble  linger  here. 

When  all  the  pride  of  life  is  gone  I 
Warriors !  why  still  the  stroke  deny  ? 
Think  ye  Ontara  fears  to  die  ? 

7.  He  feared  not  in  his  flower  of  days. 

When  strong,  to  stem  the  torrent's  force, 
When  through  the  forest's  pathless  maze. 

His  way  was  as  an  eagle's  course  ! 
When  war  was  sunshine  to  his  sight, 
And  the  wild  hurricane,  delight  I 

8.  Shall  then  the  warrior  tremble  now  ? 

Now  when  his  envied  strength  is  o'er  ? 


224  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Hung  on  the  pine  his  idle  bow, 

His  pirogue*  useless  on  the  shore  ? 
When  age  hath  dimmed  his  failing  eye, 
Shall  he,  the  joyless,  fear  to  die  ? 

9.  Sons  of  the  brave  !  delay  no  more, 
The  spirits  of  my  kindred  call ; 
'Tis  but  one  pang,  and  all  is  o'er ! 

O  !  bid  the  aged  cedar  fall ! 
To  join  the  brethren  of  his  prime, 
The  mighty  of  departed  time. 


LESSON  IxXXIU 


Explanatory  Note. — 1.  Sar  coph'  a  gi  is  the  plural  ol  Sarcophagus, 
the  Greek  name  of  a  stone  coffin.  The  word  literally  means  flesh-de- 
vouring. It  was  so  called  by  the  ancients,  because  the  species  of  stone,  m 
which  they  deposited  the  dead  which  they  did  not  choose  to  burn,  caused 
the  flesh,  bones,  and  all  except  the  teeth,  to  consume  and  waste  away  in 
a  very  short  time. 

A   YISIT   TO   MOUNT   VERNON. 

H.  GREELEY. 

"Washington,  Sept.  4, 1841. 

1.  A  STEAMBOAT  passage  of  six  miles  to  Alexandria,  and  a 
drive  of  nine  miles  farther  in  the  same  southern  direction,  over 
a  wretched  road,  through  a  thin-soiled,  wood-covered  country, 
brought  us,  in  a  little  less  than  three  hours  from  this  city,  to 
Mount  Vernon.  The  estate  is  completely  isolated  from  all 
other  cultivation ;  on  the  east,  by  the  broad,  magnificent  Po- 
tomac, which  sweeps  partly  around  it  in  a  south-easterly  and 
then  southerly  direction  ;  on  the  west  and  south-west,  by  a 
broken  tract  of  half-grown  forest,  through  which  a  brooklet 
has  worn  a  deep  and  wide  gorge  on  its  way  to  the  river, 

2.  The  cultivated  portion  of  the  estate  stretches  mainly 
north  and  north-west  from  the  mansion,  a  plain  and  modest 
white  house  of  goodly  size,  which  stands  near  the  bank  of  the 
Potomac,  fronting  westerly  upon  the  garden  and  grounds  of  the 

*  Pi  bogue',  a  canoe  formed  out  of  the  trunk  of  a  tree. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  225 

estate,  around  wliicli  half  a  dozen  humbler  dwellings,  tenanted 
by  families  of  black  laborers  and  servants,  are  scattered  with 
little  regard  to  order  or  symmetry.  The  estate  is  now  the  pos- 
session and  residence  of  Mrs.  John  A.  Washington,  widow  of  a 
nephew  of  Judge  Bushrod  Washington,  himself  the  nephew 
of  Gen.  George  Washington ; — so  swiftly  do  the  generations 
of  men  follow  each  other  in  their  solemn  march  to  the  tomb ! 

3.  The  original  resting-place  of  the  Father  of  his  Country, 
and  the  old  family  sepulcher,  is  south  of  the  mansion,  imme- 
diately on  the  bank  of  the  Potomac,  though  a  steep  and  woody 
descent  of  over  a  hundred  feet  intervenes  between  it  and  the 
water.  This  sepulcher  is  a  mere  excavation  in  the  earth, 
walled  over  in  the  rudest  manner,  and  looking  far  more,  at  its 
entrance,  like  a  hop-kiln  or  out-door  cellar,  than  a  place  of  rest 
for  the  illusti'ious  departed. 

4.  But  this  cemetery  is  now  deserted  and  of  course  dilapi- 
dated. A  new  and  more  fitting  mausoleum  of  brick  was  con- 
structed in  1837,  south  of  the  garden,  and  some  two  or  three 
hundred  yards  south-west  of  the  former,  in  which  the  remains 
of  the  Washington  family  are  now  deposited.  It  is  built  on 
ground  sloping  to  the  south,  and  the  family  cemetery  is  ex- 
cavated in  the  hill-side,  and  is  entered  by  an  iron  door  ;  but  in 
front  of  this,  under  the  neat  and  appropriate  brick  structure 
itself,  separated  from  the  outer  world  only  by  a  strong  iron 
railing,  rest,  side  by  side,  in  two  marble  sarcophagi^  the  ashes 
of  George  and  Martha  Washington. 

5.  These  marble  inclosures  are  well  executed,  though  sim- 
ple, and  I  believe  were  presented  by  Mr.  T.  Struthers,  a  Phila- 
delphia artist,  as  a  token  of  affectionate  reverence  and  admira- 
tion for  the  memory  of  the  great  departed.  The  inscription 
upon  the  top  merely  states  the  name,  age,  and  time  of  the 
decease  of  each  respectively ;  the  death  of  Mrs.  Washington 
having  occurred  in  1801,  two  years  after  that  of  her  revered 
consort;  and,  as  her  age  is  stated  at  71  years,  while  he  did 
not  reach  C8,  she  must  have  been  nearly  two  years  his  senior. 

6.  After  musing  an  hour  by  the  sepulcher,  we  were  con- 
ducted through  the  garden  by  a  communicative  black  man, 


226  SANDERS'    NEW      SERIES. 

who  tejoices  in  tlie  appellation  of  Bill  Smith,  and  who  has 
been  forty  years  on  the  estate,  having  come  thei'e  with  Bushrod 
Washington,  soon  after  the  decease  of  the  Ex-President.  The 
garden  is  rich  in  rare  and  valuable  plants  ;  among  them  are  many 
planted  by  the  hand  of  the  Father  of  his  Country. 

7.  Peaches,  pears,  lemons,  oranges,  are  thickly  surrounded 
by  the  aloe,  myrtle,  rose,  geranium,  &c.,  as  well  as  by  plants 
whose  unfamiliar  names  escape  me.  The  burning  of  an  adjoin- 
ing building,  a  few  years  since,  destroyed  some  of  them ;  but 
the  garden  is  probably  little  changed  since  its  world-renowned 
master  stood  in  its  midst,  save  in  the  greater  profusion  of  its 
contents.  Long  may  it  continue  to  people  the  mind  of  the 
visitor  with  images  of  the  past,  and  fitly  blend  its  fragrance 
with  the  memory  of  Washington. 

8.  Slowly,  pensively,  we  turned  our  faces  from  the  rest  of 
the  mighty  dead,  to  the  turmoil  of  the  restless  living, — from 
the  solemn,  sublime  repose  of  Mount  Vernon,  to  the  ceaseless 
intrigues,  the  petty  strifes,  the  ant-hill  bustle  of  the  Federal 
City.  Each  has  its  own  atmosphere  ;  London  and  Mecca  are 
not  so  unlike  as  they.  The  silent,  enshrouding  woods, — the 
gleaming,  majestic  river, — the  bright,  benignant  sky, — it  is  fitly 
here,  amid  the  scenes  he  loved  and  hallowed,  that  the  man 
whose  life  and  character  have  redeemed  Patriotism  and  Liberty 
from  the  reproach  which  centuries  of  designing  knavery  and 
hollow  profession  had  cast  upon  them,  now  calmly  awaits  the 
trump  of  the  Archangel. 

9.  Who  does  not  rejoice  that  the  original  design  of  remov- 
ing his  ashes  to  Washington,  has  never  been  consummated, — 
that  they  lie  Avhere  the  pilgrim  may  reverently  approach  them, 
unvexed  by  the  light  laugh  of  the  time-killing  worldling, — 
unannoyed  by  the  vain  or  vile  scribblings  of  the  thoughtless  or 
the  base?  Thus  may  they  repose  forever! — that  the  heart  of 
the  Patriot  may  be  invigorated, — the  hopes  of  the  Philanthro- 
pist strengthened,  and  his  aims  exalted, — the  pulse  of  the 
American  quickened,  and  his  aspirations  purified  by  a  Visit  to 
Mount  Vernon. 


FIFTH      BOOK.  227 

10.  Disturb  not  his  slumber,  let  Washington  sleep, 
'Neaih  the  boughs  of  the  willow  that  over  him  weep ; 
His  arm  is  unnerved,  but  his  deeds  remain  bright, 
As  the  stars  in  the  dark  vaulted  heaven  at  night. 
Oh !  wake  not  the  hero,  his  battles  are  o'er, 

Let  him  rest  undisturbed  on  Potomac's  fair  shore ; 
On  the  river's  green  border  with  rich  flowers  dressed, 
With  the  hearts  he  loved  fondly,  let  Washington  rest. 

11.  Awake  not  his  slumbers,  tread  lightly  around  ; 
'Tis  the  grave  of  a  freeman, — 'tis  liberty's  mound  ; 
Thy  name  is  immortal, — our  freedom  it  won, — 
Brave  sire  of  Columbia,  our  own  Washington. 
Oh  !  wake  not  the  hero,  his  battles  are  o'er. 

Let  him  rest,  calmly  rest,  on  his  dear  native  shore ; 
While  the  stars  and  the  stripes  of  our  country  shall  wave 
O'er  the  land  that  can  boast  of  a  Washington's  Grave. 

M.  S.  Pike. 

LESSON  LXXnU 

Note. — The  following  beautiful  Epitaph  was  discovered  on  the  back 
of  a  Portrait  of  Washington,  sent  to  the  famQy  from  England.  It  wa« 
copied  from  a  transcript  in  the  hand- writing  of  Judge  Washington. 

AN   EPITAPH  ON   WASHING-TON, 

1 .  The  defender  of  his  Country, — the  founder  of  Liberty, 
The  friend  of  man. 
History  and  tradition  are  explored  in  vain 
For  a  parallel  to  his  character. 
In  the  annals  of  modern  greatness 

He  stands  alone ; 

And  the  noblest  names  of  Antiquity 

Lose  their  luster  in  his  presence. 

Born  the  benefactor  of  mankind. 

He  united  all  the  greatness  necessary 

To  an  illustrious  career. 

Nature  made  him  great, 

He  made  himself  virtuous. 


228  SANDERS'    NEW    SEEIES. 

Called  by  his  Country  to  tlie  defense  of  lier  Liberties, 

He  triumphantly  vindicated  the  rights  of  humanity, 

And,  on  the  pillars  of  National  Independence, 

Laid  the  foundation  of  a  great  Republic. 

2.  Twice  invested  with  Supreme  Magistracy 

By  the  unanimous  vote  of  a  free  people, 

He  surpassed,  in  the  Cabinet, 

The  glories  of  the  field. 

And,  voluntarily  resigning  the  scepter  and  the  sword, 

Retired  to  the  shades  of  private  life ; 

A  spectacle  so  new,  and  so  sublime, 

Was  contemplated  with  profoundest  admiration. 

And  the  name  of  Washington, 

Adding  new  luster  to  humanity. 

Resounded  to  the  remotest  regions  of  the  earth. 

Magnanimous  in  youth. 

Glorious  through  life. 

Great  in  death  ; 

His  highest  ambition,  the  happiness  of  mankind, 

His  noblest  victory,  the  conquest  of  himself. 

Bequeathing  to  posterity  the  inheritance  of  his  fame, 

And  building  his  monument  in  the  hearts  of  his  Countrymen, — ' 

He  lived — the  ornament  of  the  Eighteenth  Century ; 

He  died  regretted  by  a  mourning  world. 


-♦-♦*- 


LESSON  LXXIV* 

WASHINGTON. 

ELIZA  COOK. 
Land  of  the  West  1  though  passing  brief  the  record  of  thine  age, 
Thou  hast  a  name  that  darkens  all  on  history's  wide  page. 
Let  all  the  blasts  of  fame  ring  out, — thine  shall  be  loudest  far ; 
Let  others  boast  their  satellites, — thou  hast  th*  plauet-star. 
Thou  hast  a  name  whose  characters  of  light  shall  ne'er  depart ; 
'Tis  stamp'd  upon  the  dullest  brain,  and  warms  the  coldest  heart, 
A  war-cry  fit  for  any  land  where  freedom's  to  be  won ; 
Land  of  the  West  I  it  stands  alone, — it  is  thy  Washington. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  229 

2.  Rome  had  its  Cesar,  great  and  brave ;  but  stain  was  on  his  wreath ; 
He  Uved  the  heartless  conqueror,  and  died  the  tyrant's  death. 
France  had  its  Eagle  ;  but  his  wings,  though  lofty  they  might  soar, 
"Were  spread  in  false  ambition's  flight,  and  dipped  in  murder's  gore. 
Those  hero-gods,  whose  mighty  sway  would  fain  have  chained  the 

waves ; 
Who  fleshed  their  blades  with  tiger  zeal,  to  make  a  world  of  slaves  ; 
Who,  though  their  kindred  barred  the  path,  still  fiercely  waded  on ; 
0,  where  shall  be  their  "  glory"  by  the  side  of  Washington  ? 

3.  He  fought,  but  not  with  love  of  strife ;  he  struck,  but  to  defend ; 
And  ere  he  turned  a  people's  foe,  he  sought  to  be  a  friend. 

He  strove  to  keep  his  country's  right  by  reason's  gentle  word. 
And  sighed  when  fell  injustice  threw  the  chaUenge, — sword  to  sword; 
He  stood  the  firm,  the  calm,  the  wise,  the  patriot  and  sage ; 
He  showed  no  deep  avenging  hate, — no  burst  of  despot  rage ; 
He  stood  for  Liberty  and  Trutb,  and  dauntlessly  led  on. 
Till  shouts  of  victory  gave  forth  the  name  of  Washington. 

4.  No  car  of  triumph  bore  him  through  a  city  filled  with  grief; 
No  groaning  captives  at  the  wheels  proclaimed  him  victor  chief; 
He  broke  the  gyves  of  slavery,  with  strong  and  high  disdain, 

And  forged  no  scepter  from  the  hnks,  when  he  had  crushed  the  chain. 
He  saved  his  land ;  but  did  not  lay  his  soldier  trappings  down. 
To  change  them  for  the  regal  vest,  and  "  don"  a  kingly  cromi. 
Fame  was  too  earnest  in  her  joy, — too  proud  of  such  a  son, — 
To  let  a  robe  and  title  mask  a  noble  Washington  I 

5.  England,  my  heart  is  truly  thine,  my  loved,  my  native  earth  I 
The  land  that  holds  a  mother's  grave,  and  gave  that  mother  birth. 
0,  keenly  sad  would  be  the  fate  that  thrust  me  from  thy  shore, 
And  faltering  my  breath  that  sighed, — "  Farewell  for  evermore  I" 
But  did  I  meet  such  adverse  lot,  I  would  not  seek  to  dwell 
Where  olden  heroes  wrought  the  deeds  for  Homer's  songs  to  teU, 

<  "  Away,  thou  gallant  ship  !"  I'd  cry,  "  and  bear  me  swiftly  on ; 
But  bear  me  from  my  own  fair  land  to  that  of  Washington." 


LESSON    LXXV» 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Cic'  e  bo,  the  great  Roman  orator,  was  driven 
into  exile  by  the  ambitious  Clodius  and  his  faction.  He  went  to  Mac- 
edonia^ where  meeting  Philiscus,  a'  sculptor,  whom  he  had  formerly 
known  at  Athens,  the  following  dialogue  ensued.  Cicero  was  afterward 
recalled  by  the  Roman  people. 

2.  Hip  poc'  ra  tes  was  a  celebrated  physician  of  Athens,  who,  under  the 


230  banders'    new    series. 

impression  that  he  had  delivered  the  city  from  a  dreadful  pestilence,  was 
presented  by  the  citizens  with  a  golden  crown. 

3.  Ca  MIL'  Lus,  a  Roman,  was  styled  a  second  Romulus  for  his  services 
to  his  country.  For  slight  reasons,  however,  he  was  banished.  During 
his  exile,  Rome  was  besieged  by  the  Gauls.  In  the  midst  of  their  mis- 
fortunes, the  Romans  elected  him  Dictator,  an  dhe,  forgetting  their  ingrati- 
tude, marched  to  the  relief  of  his  country,  which  he  delivered,  after  it  had 
been  for  some  time  in  the  possession  of  the  enemy. 

4.  Scip'  I  0,  a  noble  Roman,  who  defeated  the  Carthaginians  in  several 
bloody  battles,  in  one  of  which  54,000  of  them  were  left  dead  on  the  field ; 
in  another,  20,000.  For  his  success  he  was  styled  Africanus.  But  he  was 
afterwards  falsely  accused  of  extortion  and  indolence,  when  he  retired  in 
disgust  at  the  injustice  of  his  countrymen,  to  Liternum,  a  town  of  Campania. 

5.  A  Ris  ti'des,  though,  on  account  of  his  great  integrity,  styled  the  Just, 
was  through  the  influence  of  his  rival,  Themistocles,  banished  for  ten 
years.  He  was,  however,  recalled  by  the  Athenians  before  six  years  of 
his  exile  had  expired. 

6.  The  mis'to  cles,  an  Athenian  general,  who  successfully  and  coura^ 
geously  resisted  the  army  of  Xerxes,  was  disinherited  in  his  youth  bj'  his 
father,  on  account  of  his  vicious  conduct.  This  act  roused  his  ambition 
for  renown. 

7.  So'lon,  one  of  the  seven  wise  men  of  Greece,  was  distinguished  as  a 
lawgiver.  After  having  established  the  most  salutary  laws  and  regula- 
tions, and  bound  the  Athenians  by  a  solemn  oath,  to  observe  them  for  100 
years,  he  resigned  the  office  of  legislator,  and  traveled  in  other  countries. 
After  ten  years  he  returned,  but  had  the  mortification  to  find  that  the 
greater  part  of  his  laws  was  disregarded  by  the  factious  spirit  of  his  coun- 
trymen. 

DESPONDENCY;    OR,  CICERO  AND  PHILISCUS. 

Philiscus. — I  AM  surprised,  Cicero,'  to  see  you  lamenting 
your  misfortune  in  this  childish  manner.  What !  y5u  !  who 
have  been  disciplined  in  every  kind  of  learning ; — you !  who 
have  been  so  often  the  guide  and  counselor  of  others  ! 

Cicero. — I  am  just  beginning,  Philiscus,  to  learn  practically 
the  truth  of  the  old  remark,  that  to  know  what  is  a  proper 
course  of  action,  and  to  pursue  it,  are  widely  different  things. 

Philiscus. — Yet  still,  permit  me  to  say  it,  this  weakness  sur- 
prises me.  Let  us  reason  the  matter  together.  I  would  gladly 
administer  any  consolation  in  my  power.  Though,  indeed,  the 
case  is  much  the  same  as  if  some  ordinary  physician  had  of- 
fered to  prescribe  for  Hippocrates'  in  a  fit  of  the  spleen. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  231 

Cicero. — If  you  can  say  any  thing  whatever,  Philiscus, 
which  may  help  to  remove  this  darkness  from  my  mind,  and 
to  restore  me  to  myself,  most  ready  am  I  to  hear  you. 

Philiscus. — Come,  then,  let  us  consider  whether  these  are 
really  evils  which  have  befallen  you ;  if  they  are,  how  they 
can  be  remedied.  First  of  all,  I  see  you  in  possession  of  per- 
fect bodily  health,  a  good  which,  in  the  order  of  nature,  may 
be  reckoned  the  first.  Next,  you  have  a  sufficiency  of  all  the 
necessaries  of  life,  which  may  be  accounted  the  second  good 
according  to  nature.  Possessing  health,  then,  and  in  no  dan- 
ger of  want,  you  surely  have  the  means  of  happiness  in  your 
own  power. 

Cicero. — But  of  what  avail,  Philiscus,  is  mere  corporeal 
good,  when  some  great  affliction  is  devouring  the  soul  ?  Is  it 
possible,  think  you,  in  the  pleasures  of  sense,  to  forget  the 
pangs  of  the  mind  ? 

Philiscus. — But,  at  least,  you  will  agree  with  me  in  thinking 
that  our  mental  maladies  are,  in  a  great  degree,  under  our  own 
control,  certainly  much  more  so  than  our  bodily  ills.  The 
body  carries  in  itself  the  seeds  of  incurable  disorder ;  but  the 
mind,  being  of  a  divine  nature,  is  easily  brought  back  to  a  state 
of  order  and  harmony.  Your  afflictions  are  mental,  not  cor- 
poreal. With  an  exertion  of  ordinary  energy,  you  could  cast 
them  from  you. 

Cicero. — ^Do  you  then  look  upon  ignominy  and  flight  as  evils 
of  such  very  trivial  magnitude  ?  To  be  deprived  of  home  and 
of  friends,  to  be  driven  from  one's  country  with  contumely,  to 
wander  an  exile  in  a  strange  land,  an  object  of  laughter  to 
one's  enemies,  and  a  cause  of  disgrace  to  one's  kindred  ? 

Philiscus. — Frankly,  yes.  Man  is  constituted  of  two  ele- 
ments, a  mind  and  a  body,  to  each  of  which  nature  has  as- 
signed certain  specific  evils  and  specific  goods.  Disgrace 
an4  exile,  with  other  things  of  a  like  kind,  are  evils  of  custom 
and  opinion  merely.  They  hurt  neither  the  body  nor  the 
mind.  The  body  is  neither  bruised  nor  made  sick  by  them, 
nor  does  the  mind  become  less  intelligent  or  less  just,  in  con- 
sequence of  them.      And  why  ?   because  they  are  not,  natu- 


232  SANDERS'     NEW"     SERIES. 

rally  and  in  themselves,  evils.     Just  so  neither  is  honorable 
station,  nor  a  residence  in  one's  own  country,  naturally  good. 

2.  Consider,  too,  how  variable  human  opinion  is  on  such 
subjects.  The  very  same  things  which  are  reckoned  disgrace- 
ful, at  one  place  or  period,  are  lauded  at  another  ;  and  an  action 
which  in  Greece  might  deserve  a  statue,  would  very  possibly 
be  regarded,  in  India,  as  an  atrocious  crime.  One  would  think 
it  ridiculous  enough,  if  one  were  to  hear  of  a  vote  being  taken, 
declaring  a  certain  person  to  be  sick  or  to  have  a  depraved 
heart.  Disease  and  depravity  are  evils,  simply  because  nature 
has  made  them  so.  Human  opinion  can  add  no  force  to  the 
decrees  of  nature,  nor  can  it  substitute  its  own  decrees  for 
hers. 

3.  What  is  to  be  an  exile  ?  It  is  to  be  forced  to  live  un- 
willingly out  of  one's  own  country.  "  To  live  out  of  onch  own 
country" — does  that  constitute  the  evil  ?  How  many  thou- 
sands are  there  who  do  so  voluntarily,  tliinking  it  no  evil  at  all ! 
But  "  unwillingly  /"  For  myself,  I  do  not  see  how  this  un- 
willingness can,  in  any  case,  appertain  to  a  wise  man.  At  any 
rate,  if  it  is  this  which  constitutes  the  evil  of  exile,  the  remedy 
is  in  your  own  power.  You  can  live  as  willingly  in  Macedonia 
as  in  Rome.  There  is  truth  in  the  old  saying,  that  we  ought 
not  to  require  things  to  happen  as  we  wish,  but  rather  to  wish 
for  such  things  as  do  of  necessity  happen. 

4.  Our  lot  in  life  is  not  of  our  own  choosing.  But  such  as  it 
pleases  Providence  to  assign  unto  us ;  such,  willingly  or  un- 
willingly, we  must  accept.  If,  however,  it  is  not  merely  the 
ignominy  and  the  exile  which  afflict  you,  but  the  fact,  that, 
while  you  had  not  only  done  no  injury  to  your  country,  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  actually  merited  rewards  for  most  important 
services  rendered  to  her,  you  should  thus  be  banished  and  dis- 
honored,— consider,  I  pray  you,  that,  it  having  been  once  al- 
lotted that  you  were  to  fall,  it,  at  least,  happened  well  and 
fortunately  that  you  fell  without  guilt. 

5.  You  had  toiled  in  behalf  of  your  fellow-citizens,  not  in  a 
private  capacity,  but  as  consul ;  not  unauthorized  and  officiously, 
but  in  obedience  to  the  decrees  of  the  Senate ;  not  out  of  se- 


FIFTH     BOOK.  233 

ditious  views,  but  with  the  best  and  purest  intentions.  Certain 
ambitious  and  vindictiA^e  nnen  conspired  to  destroy  you.  It  is 
for  them  to  mourn  over  the  injustice  of  their  conduct.  To 
bear  manfully  on  your  part,  whatever  good  or  evil  Providence 
sees  fit  to  send  upon  you,  is  both  praiseworthy  and  neces- 
sary. 

6.  "What  can  it  matter  whether  you  are  to  pass  the  remainder 
if  your  life  in  Macedon  or  elsewhere  ?  Place  can  cause  neither 
happiness  nor  misery.  The  mind  is  its  own  place,  and  it  is 
there  that  we  are  to  seek  our  country  and  our  happiness. 
Aware  of  this,  Camillus'  went  cheerfully  to  dwell  in  Ardea, 
Conscious  of  this,  Scipio^  lived  without  murmuring  at  Liter- 
num.  Need  I  mention  Aristides*  or  Themistocles,"  whom  ex- 
ile only  made  more  glorious  ?  Or  Solon,'  who  was  a  voluntary 
exile  for  ten  years  ? 

'7.  It  is  useless  to  repine  at  our  lot.  We  shall  not,  by  our 
murmuring,  escape  what  is  assigned  us,  and  we  shall  certainly 
add  to  our  misfortunes  the  painful  reflection  that  we  grieve  in 
vain.  If  you  will  be  persuaded  by  me,  Cicero,  you  shall  select 
for  a  habitation  some  retired  spot  by  the  sea-shore,  and  there 
devote  the  rest  of  your  life  to  study,  and  to  the  composition 
of  literary  works.  In  the  delights  of  letters  and  philosor^hy, 
in  the  desire  of  being  useful  to  men,  in  the  hope  of  the  ap- 
plause of  after  ages,  your  ambition  would  find  ample  scope, 
and  your  peace  of  mind  be  assured. 

8.  The  hill  of  the  Muses,  my  Cicero,  is  above  tempests, 
always  clear  and  calm ;  a  hill  of  the  goodliest  discovery  that 
man  can  have,  being  a  prospect  upon  all  the  errors  and  wan- 
derings of  the  present  and  former  times.  Nay,  from  some 
cliff,  the  eye  ranges  beyond  the  horizon  of  the  present  time 
and  catches  no  obscure  glimpses  of  the  times  to  come.  Sg 
that,  if  one  would,  indeed,  lead  a  life  that  unites  safety  and  dio-- 
nity,  pleasure  and  merit, — if  one  would  win  admiration  without 
envy, — if  one  would  be  in  the  feast,  and  not  in  the  throng, — in 
the  light,  and  not  in  the  heat, — let  him  embrace  the  life  of 
study  and  contemplation. 


234  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES 

LESSON  LXXYU 
LOOK    ALOFT. 

J.   LAWEENCB. 

1.  In  the  tempest  of  life,  when  the  wave  and  the  gale 
Are  around  and  above,  if  thy  footing  should  fail, — 

If  thine  eye  should  grow  dim,  and  thy  caution  depart, — 
"  Look  aloft,"  and  be  firm,  and  be  fearless  of  heart. 

2.  If  the  friend  who  embraced  in  prosperity's  glow. 
With  a  smile  for  each  joy,  and  a  tear  for  each  woe, 
Should  betray  thee  when  sorrows,  like  clouds,  are  arrayed, 
"  Look  aloft"  to  the  friendship  which  never  shall  fade. 

3.  Should^the  visions  which  hope  spreads  in  light  to  thine  eye, 
Like  the  tints  of  the  rainbow,  but  brighten  to  fly, 

Then  turn,  and,  through  tears  of  repentant  regret, 
"  Look  aloft"  to  the  Sun  that  is  never  to  set. 

4.  Should  they  who  are  nearest  and  dearest  thy  heart, — 
Thy  friends  and  companions, — in  sorrow  depart, 

"  Look  aloft"  from  the  darkness  and  dust  of  the  tomb, 
To  that  soil  where  "  affection  is  ever  in  bloom." 

6.  And,  O  !  when  Death  comes  in  his  terrors,  to  cast 
His  fears  on  the  future,  his  pall  on  the  past, 
In  that  moment  of  darkness,  with  hope  in  thy  heart, 
And  a  smile  in  thine  eye,  "  Look  aloft,"  and  depart. 


LESSON  LXXVIU 


MONUMENTS  OF  HUMAN  GRANDEUR  PERISH. 

COLLTER. 

1.  The  monuments  of  human  greatness  yield  in  succession 
to  the  destroying  influence  of  time.  Whatever  is  magnificent, 
or  beautiful,  or  excellent,  possesses  only  a  temporary  influence, 
and  commands  only  a  transient  admiration  ;  in  the  course  of  a 
few  years,  or,  at  most,  a  few  ages,  imagination  is  required  to 


FIFTH     BOOK.  235 

supply  departed  graces,  and  genius  mourns  over  extinguished 
glory. 

2.  To  man,  in  his  collective  strength,  nothing  seems  impos- 
sible, and  few  things  appear  even  difficult.  He  has  dared 
every  thing ;  and  he  has  achieved  so  much  as  amply  to  repay 
him  for  his  labors.  The  extent  of  sovereignty  which  he  grasped, 
when  he  stretched  his  scepter  over  numberless  provinces,  and 
planted  the  line  of  his  dominion  from  sea  to  sea,  demonstrated 
the  unbounded  character  of  his  ambition,  and  the  incalculable 
variety  of  his  resources. 

3.  The  stupendous  productions  of  art,  on  which  he  inscribed 
his  victories,  and  which  he  intended  as  the  pillars  of  his  fame, 
have  combined  and  exhibited  all  that  is  sublime  in  conception, 
and  all  that  is  graceful  in  execution.  Could  he  have  attached 
durability  to  these,  his  triumph  would  have  been  complete, — 
he  would  have  bound  time  to  his  chariot  wheels,  and  rendered 
the  monuments  of  his  greatness  coeval  with  the  existence  of 
the  heavenly  bodies. 

4.  But  that  irresistible  power  has  dissolved  all  the  associa- 
tions which  he  formed,  and  overthrown  all  the  structures 
which  he  raised.  He  touched  the  seats  of  empire  with  his 
commanding  scepter,  and  the  thrones  of  the  earth  crumbled 
into  dust.  Scarcely  was  the  head  of  the  monarch  laid  be- 
neath the  sod,  before  his  dominion  perished.  Scarcely  the 
active  hand  of  the  warrior  stiffened  in  death,  ere  the  provinces 
which  he  had  won,  revolted,  and  another  hero  arose  to  run 
the  same  career  of  danger  and  oppression,  to  mark  out  the  globe 
for  himself,  and  to  resign,  in  his  turn,  a  crown  so  hardly  achieved. 

5.  Of  Nineveh, — of  Babylon, — we  have  few  remains.  Of 
Egypt  we  have  only  characters  of  degradation.  Of  Rome 
there  exist  but  the  melancholy  fragments  of  ruined  grandeur. 
With  the  respective  empires,  the  monuments  of  their  power  have 
been  defaced  or  destroyed.  Time  has  wasted  the  gardens, 
prostrated  the  Colossus,  dilapidated  the  Temples,  unraveled 
the  Labyrinth,  broken  down  the  Mausoleum  upon  its  dead, 
and  left  the  Pyramids  to  mark  the  progress  of  his  effacing 
hand,  and  to  deride  the  folly  of  human  ambition. 


236  SANDERS'    NEW     SERIES. 

6.  AVhen  these  exhibitions  of  liuman  ability  are  swept  away 
from  the  earth,  or  so  much  of  them  only  remains  as  to  awaken 
sentiments  of  pity,  more  lively  than  those  of  admiration,  His- 
tory restores  the  empire,  and  Science  rears  the  fallen  cities 
anew.  Again  Palmyra  rises  from  among  her  ruined  temples 
and  tottering  pillars; — again  Rome  assumes  the  scepter  of  the 
world,  and  binds  distant  nations  to  her  throne.  The  work  of 
the  destroyer  is  but  half  eJTected,  while  the  record  of  former 
times  remains.  The  heroes  of  antiquity  live  over  again  ;  and 
the  great  monarchies  burst  forth  afresh  in  all  their  primeval 
splendor. 

7.  Letters  seem  to  promise  that  immortality  which  neither 
arms  could  command,  nor  arts  acquire.  The  blaze  of  war  ig 
quickly  extinguished.  It  is,  indeed,  a  devouring  fire ;  but  it  is 
short-lived  in  proportion  to  its  fierceness.  Like  the  beacon 
which  is  kindled  to  affright  the  nations,  it  burns  for  a  night, 
and  expires  upon  its  own  ashes.  But  the  inspiration  of  the 
poet  is  a  lambent  flame,  playing  around  the  imagination  from 
age  to  age,  and  shedding  its  mild  and  brilliant  light  upon  dis- 
tant lands  and  times,  when  the  consuming  element  of  discord 
is  forgotten. 

8.  The  magic  pen  of  the  historian  raises,  from  their  resting- 
places,  the  departed  shades  of  princes  and  warriors,  and  em- 
bodying them  in  their  proper  forms,  brings  them  again  to  act 
their  part  upon  the  stage  of  time  ;  while  we  feel  ourselves 
sheltered  from  the  miseries,  at  the  same  time  that  we  ascertain 
the  extent  of  their  policy  and  achievements.  Yet,  this  mauso- 
leum of  former  greatness  rears  its  majestic  head  only  for  a 
season. 

9.  In  vain  the  poet  and  the  historian  promise  themselves,  or 
the  subjects  of  their  eulogy,  immortality  ; — in  vain  they  flatter 
themselves  that  they  have  erected  a  monument,  more  durable 
than  brass,  loftier  than  the  royal  elevation  of  the  pyramids, 
which  neither  the  wearing  shower,  the  unavailing  tempest,  the 
innumerable  succession  of  years,  nor  the  flight  of  seasons,  shall 
be  able  to  demolish ; — they  dream  but  of  a  fame  that  shall 
move  round  the  circles  of  time. 


FIFTH    BOOK.  23T 

10.  Many  such,  a  fond  enthusiast  has  floated  down  the 
stream,  without  leaving  even  the  wreck  of  his  name  as  a  me- 
morial. And  of  those  who  have  stood  highest  on  the  records 
of  renown,  a  part  of  their  works  has  perished.  Time  has  not 
spared  even  science.  The  precious  fragments  of  ancient  wri- 
tings resemble  the  ruins  of  some  great  empire  ; — enough  re- 
mains to  delight,  to  impress,  to  instruct.  But  these  remnants 
cause  us  to  lament  the  more  bitterly  that  which  is  lost  to  us, 
as  an  evil  irreparable,  and  afford  a  lesson  more  ample  of  hu- 
man vanity  than  of  human  distinction. 


•  •  ♦  •< 


LESSON   LXXYIIK 
THE   GLORY   OF   MAN   PASSETH  AWAY. 


WATSON. 


1.  Mark  the  glory  of  collective  man.  United,  he  puts  on 
*.he  appearance  of  strength.  He  founds  empires;  he  builds 
tiities ;  he  guards  by  his  armies ;  he  cements  by  his  policy. 
Ah !  vain  attempt !  Still,  "  all  flesh  is  grass,  and  all  the  glory 
of  man  as  the  flower  of  grass."  Trace  the  track  of  civilized 
^nd  powerful  man  through  the  world,  and  you  will  find  it  co- 

•ered  with  the  wreck  of  his  hopes ;  and  the  very  monuments 
Df  his  power  have  been  converted  into  the  mockery  of  his 
weakness.  His  eternal  cities  molder  in  their  ruins ;  the  ser- 
pent hisses  in  the  cabinet,  where  he  planned  his  empires. 

2.  Echo  itself  is  startled  by  the  foot  which  breaks  the  si- 
lence that  has  reigned  for  ages  in  his  hall  of  feast  and  song. 
Columns  stand  in  the  untrodden  desert ;  and  the  hut  of  the 
shepherd,  or  the  den  of  the  robber,  shelters  the  only  residence 
of  his  palaces.  And  the  glory  which  now  exists,  is  crumbling 
everywhere,  where  it  has  not  the  cement  of  Christianity,  and 
where  it  takes  not  something  of  perpetuity  from  the  everlast- 
ing word.  All  heathen  glory,  all  Mohammedan  pride,  creak 
in  the  blast,  and  nod  to  their  fall.  The  withering  wind  or  the 
raging  tempest  shall  pass  over  them  in  turn ;  and  men  shall 
sit  upon  the  ruins  of  their  proudest  grandeur. 


238  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON  LXXIX* 

THE   ETERNITY   OF   GOD. 

BIBLE. 

1.  Lord,  Thou  hast  been  our  dwelling  place  in  all  generations. 
Before  the  mountains  were  brought  forth, 

Or  ever  Thou  hadst  formed  the  earth  and  the  world, 

Even  from  everlasting  to  everlasting,  Thou  art  God. 

Thou  turnest  man  to  destruction ; 

And  sayest.  Return,  ye  children  of  men. 

For  a  thousand  years  in  Thy  sight 

Are  but  as  yesterday  when  it  is  past, 

And  as  a  watch  in  the  night. 

2.  Thou  carriest  them  away  as  with  a  flood ; 
They  are  as  a  sleep  ; 

In  the  morning  they  are  like  grass  which  groweth  up. 

In  the  morning  it  flourisheth,  and  groweth  up ; 

In  the  evening  it  is  cut  down,  and  withereth. 

For  we  are  consumed  by  Thine  anger. 

And  by  Thy  wrath  are  we  troubled. 

Thou  hast  set  our  iniquities  before  Thee, 

Our  secret  sins  in  the  light  of  Thy  countenance. 

8.  For  all  our  days  are  passed  away  in  Thy  wrath ; 
We  spend  our  years  as  a  tale  that  is  told. 
The  days  of  our  years  are  three-score  years  and  ten  ; 
And  if,  by  reason  of  strength  they  be  four-score  years, 
Yet  is  their  strength  labor  and  sorrow ; 
For  it  is  soon  cut  off,  and  we  fly  away. 
"Who  knoweth  the  power  of  Thine  anger  ? 
Even  according  to  Thy  fear,  so  is  Thy  wrath. 
So  teach  us  to  number  our  days. 
That  we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto  wisdom. 

4,  Return,  O  Lord,  how  long  ? 

And  let  it  repent  Thee  concerning  Thy  servants 

O  satisfy  ns  early  with  Thy  mercy ; 

That  we  may  rejoice  and  be  glad  all  our  days ! 


FIFTH     BOOK.  239 

Make  us  glad  according  to  the  days  wlierein  Thou  hast 

afflicted  us, 
And  the  years  wherein  we  have  seen  evil. 
Let  Thy  work  appear  unto  Thy  servants, 
And  Thy  glory  unto  their  children. 
And  let  the  beauty  of  the  Lord  our  God  be  upon  us ; 
And  establish  Thou  the  work  of  our  hands  upon  us ; 
Yea,  the  work  of  our  hands  establish  Thou  it. 


LESSON  LXXX* 
OMNIPRESENCE   OF   GOD. 

1.  Above, — below, — where'er  I  gaze, 

Thy  guiding  finger.  Lord,  I  view, 
Traced  in  the  midnight  planets'  blaze, 

Or  glistening  in  the  morning  dew  ; 
Whate'er  is  beautiful  or  fair, 
Is  but  Thine  own  reflection  there. 

2.  I  hear  Thee  in  the  stormy  wind. 

That  turns  the  ocean-wave  to  foam  ; 
Nor  less  Thy  wondrous  power  I  find, 

When  summer  airs  around  me  roam; 
The  tempest  and  the  calm  declare 
Thyself, — for  Thou  art  everywhere. 

3.  I  find  Thee  in  the  noon  of  night. 

And  read  Thy  name  in  every  star 
That  drinks  its  splendor  from  the  light 

That  flows  from  mercy's  beaming  car : 
Thy  footstool.  Lord,  each  starry  gem 
Composes, — not  Thy  diadem. 

4.  And  when  the  radiant  orb  of  liffht 

Hath  tipped  the  mountain-tops  with  gold^ 
Smote  with  the  blaze,  my  weary  sight 

Shrinks  from  the  wonders  I  behold  ; — 
That  ray  of  glory  bright  and  fair. 
Is  but  Thy  living  shadow  there. 


240  SANDERS'     NEW      SERIES. 

6.  Thine  is  the  silent  noon  of  night, — 
The  twilight  eve, — the  dewy  morn  ; 
Whate'er  is  beautiful  and  bright, 

Thy  hands  have  fashioned  to  adorn ; — 
Thy  glory  walks  in  every  sphere, 
And  all  things  whisper, — "  God  is  here." 


•  «  ♦  «' 


LESSON  LXXXK 
INFLUENCE   OP    AMERICAN   LIBERTY. 

WEBSTER. 

Extract  from  a  Speech  delivered  in  Faneuil  Hall,  Boston,  April  3,  1825, 

1.  It  is  said  that  prosperity  sometimes  hardens  the  heart. 
Perhaps,  also,  it  may  sometimes  have  a  contrary  effect,  and 
elevate  and  liberalize  the  feelings.  If  this  can  ever  be  the  re- 
sult of  such  a  cause,  there  is  certainly,  in  the  present  condi- 
tion of  the  country,  enough  to  inspire  the  most  grateful  and 
the  kindest  feelings.  We  have  a  common  stock  both  of  hap- 
piness and  of  distinction,  of  which  we  are  all  entitled,  as  citi- 
zens of  the  country,  to  partake.  We  may  all  rejoice  in  the 
general  prosperity,  in  the  peace  and  security  which  we  enjoy, 
and  in  the  brilliant  success  which  has  thus  far  attended  our 
republican  institutions. 

2.  These  are  circumstances  which  may  well  excite  in  us  all  a 
noble  pride.  Our  civil  and  political  institutions,  while  they  an- 
swer for  us  all  the  great  ends  designed  by  them,  furnish,  at  the 
same  time,  an  example  to  others,  and  diffuse  blessings  beyond 
our  own  limits.  In  whatever  part  of  the  globe  men  are  found 
contending  for  political  liberty,  they  look  to  the  United  States 
with  a  feeling  of  brotherhood,  and  put  forth  a  claim  of  kindred. 

3.  The  South  American  States,  especially,  exhibit  a  most 
interesting  spectacle.  Let  the  great  men  who  formed  our  con- 
stitutions of  government,  who  still  survive,  and  let  the  children 
of  those  who  have  gone  to  their  graves,  console  themselves 
with  the  reflection,  that  whether  they  have  risen  or  fallen  in 
the  little  contests  of  party,  they  have  not  only  established  the 
liberty  and  happiness  of  their  own  native  land,  but  have  con- 


FIFTH     BOOK.  241 

ferred  blessings  beyond  tbeir  own  country,  and  beyond  their 
own  thoughts,  on  millions  of  men,  and  on  successions  of  gen- 
erations. 

4.  Under  the  influence  of  these  institutions,  received  and 
adopted  in  principle,  from  our  example,  the  whole  southern 
continent  has  shaken  off  its  colonial  subjection.  A  new  world, 
filled  with  fresh  and  interesting  nations,  has  risen  to  our  sight. 
America  seems  again  discovered, — not  to  geography,  but  to 
commerce,  to  social  intercourse,  to  intelligence,  to  civilization, 
and  to  liberty. 

5.  Fifty  years  ago,  some  of  those  who  now  hear  me,  and 
the  fathers  of  many  others,  listened  in  this  place,  to  those 
mighty  masters,  Otis  and  Adams.  When  they  then  uttered 
the  spirit-stirring  sounds  of  Independence  and  Liberty,  there 
was  not  a  foot  of  land  on  the  continent,  inhabited  by  civilized 
man,  that  did  not  acknowledge  the  dominion  of  European 
power.  Thank  God,  at  this  moment,  from  us  to  the  south 
pole,  and  from  sea  to  sea,  there  is  hardly  a  foot  that  does. 

6.  And,  when  these  States,  thus  newly  disenthralled  and 
emancipated,  assume  the  tone,  and  bear  the  port  of  independ- 
ence, what  language,  and  what  ideas  do  we  find  associated 
with  their  new  acquired  liberty  ?  They  speak  of  Constitutions, 
of  Declarations  of  Rights,  of  the  Liberty  of  the  Press,  of  a 
Congress,  and  of  the  Representative  Government.  "WTiere 
did  they  learn  these  ?  And,  when  they  have  applied  to  their 
great  leader  and  the  founder  of  their  States,  the  language  of 
praise  and  commendation,  till  they  have  exhausted  it, — when 
unsatisfied  gratitude  can  express  itself  no  otherwise,  do  they 
not  call  him  their  Washington  ? 

1.  The  spirit  of  Continental  Independence,  the  genius  of 
American  Liberty,  which,  in  earlier  times,  tried  her  infant  voice 
in  the  halls  and  on  the  hills  of  New  England,  utters  it  now, 
with  power  that  seems  to  wake  the  dead,  on  the  plains  of 
Mexico,  and  along  the  sides  of  the  Andes. 

"  Her  path,  where'er  the  Goddess  roves, 
Glory  pursues,  aud  generous  shame, — 
The  unconquerable  mind,  and  Freedom's  holy  flame." 

n 


242  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON   LXXXIK 
THE  RESPONSIBILITY  OF  OUR  COUNTRY. 

JAMES  MADISON. 

1.  Let  it  be  remembered,  that  it  has  ever  been  the  pride 
and  boast  of  America,  that  the  rights,  for  which  she  contend- 
ed, were  the  rights  of  human  nature.  By  the  blessing  of  the 
Author  of  these  rights  on  the  means  exerted  for  their  defense, 
they  have  prevailed  over  all  opposition.  No  instance  has  here- 
tofore occurred,  nor  can  any  instance  be  expected  hereafter  to 
occur,  in  which  the  unadulterated  forms  of  republican  govern- 
ment, can  pretend  to  so  fair  an  opportunity  for  justifying  them- 
selves by  their  fruits. 

2.  In  this  view,  the  citizens  of  the  United  States  are  re- 
sponsible for  the  greatest  trust  ever  confided  to  a  political  so- 
ciety. If  justice,  good  faith,  honor,  gratitude,  and  all  the  other 
qualities  which  ennoble  the  character  of  a  nation,  and  fulfill 
the  ends  of  government,  be  the  fruits  of  our  establishments, 
the  cause  of  Liberty  will  acquire  a  dignity  and  luster  which  it 
has  never  yet  enjoyed  ;  and  an  example  will  be  set  which  can 
not  but  have  the  most  favorable  influence  on  the  riffhts  of  man- 
kind. 

3.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  our  government  should  be  unfor- 
tunately blotted  with  the  reverse  of  these  cai'dinal  and  essen- 
tial virtues,  the  great  cause  which  we  have  engaged  to  vindi- 
cate, will  be  dishonored  and  betrayed  ;  and  the  last  and  fairest 
experiment  in  favor  of  the  rights  of  human  nature,  will  be 
turned  against  them  ;  and  their  patrons  and  friends  exposed  to 
be  insulted  and  silenced  by  the  votaries  of  tyranny  and  usur- 
pation. 


4.  This  lovely  land,  this  glorious  liberty,  these  benign  insti- 
tutions, the  dear  purchase  of  our  fathers,  are  ours, — ours  to 
enjoy, — ours  to  preserve, — ours  to  transmit.  Generations  past 
and  generations  to  come,  hold  us  responsible  for  this  sacred 
trust.  Our  fathers  from  behind  admonish  us  with  their  anx- 
ious, parental  voices ;  posterity  calls  out  to  us  from  the  bosom 
of  the  future;  the  world  turns  hither  with  its  solicitous  eye; 


FIFTH     BOOK.  243 

all,  all  conjure  us  to  act  wisely  and  faitlifullj'  in  this  relation 
wliich  we  sustain.  We  can  never,  indeed,  pay  tlie  debt  which 
is  upon  us  ;  but  by  virtue,  by  morality,  by  religion,  by  the  cul- 
tivation of  every  good  principle  and  every  good  habit,  we  may 
hope  to  enjoy  the  blessing  through  our  day,  and  to  leave  it 
unimpaired  to  our  children. 

5.  Let  us  feel  dfeeply  how  much  of  what  we  are,  and  what 
we  possess,  we  owe  to  this  liberty  and  these  institutions  of 
government.  Nature  has,  indeed,  given  us  a  soil  which  yields 
bounteously  to  the  hand  of  industry ;  the  mighty  and  fruitful 
ocean  is  before  us,  and  the  skies  over  our  heads  shed  health 
and  vigor.  But  what  are  lands,  and  seas,  and  skies,  to  civib 
ized  man,  without  society,  without  knowledge,  without  morals 
without  religious  ci.Hure  ?  and  how  can  these  be  enjoyed,  in 
all  their  excellence,  b'lt  under  the  protection  of  wise  institu- 
tions and  a  free  government  ? 

6.  There  is  not  one  of  us,  who  does  not  at  this  moment,  and, 
at  every  moment,  experience  in  his  own  condition,  and,  in  the 
condition  of  those  most  near  and  dear  to  him,  the  influence 
and  benefits  of  this  liberty,  and  of  these  institutions.  Let  us 
then,  acknowledge  the  blessing ;  let  us  feel  it  deeply  and  pow. 
erfully ;  let  us  cherish  a  strong  affection  for  it,  and  resolve  to 
maintain  and  perpetuate  it.  The  blood  of  our  fathers, — let  it 
not  have  been  shed  in  vain ;  the  great  hope  of  posterity, — let 
it  not  be  blasted. 

v.  It  can  not  be  denied,  but  by  those  who  would  dispute 
against  the  sun,  that  with  America,  and  in  America,  a  new  era 
has  commenced  in  human  affairs.  This  era  is  distinguished 
by  free  representative  gos^ernment,  by  entire  religious  libertv, 
by  improved  systems  of  national  intercourse,  by  a  newly-awak- 
ened and  unconquerable  spirit  of  free  inquiry,  and  by  a  diffusion 
of  knowledge  through  the  community,  such  as  has  been  before 
altogether  unknown  and  unheard  of.  America,  America, — our 
country,  our  dear  native  land,  is  inseparably  connected,  fast 
bound  up,  in  fortune  and  by  fate,  with  these  great  interests. 
If  they  fall,  we  fall  with  them;  if  they  stand,  it  will  be  be- 
cause we  have  upheld  thom. — Webster. 


244  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 


LESSON   LXXXHU 

Note. — The  following  spirited  poetry  portrays  the  undying  patriotism 
which  fired  the  hearts  of  the  men  of  the  American  Revolution. 

THE  DYING  PATRIOT'S  BEQUEST. 

C.  M.  BROSNAN. 

1.  I've  seen  the  clouds  of  crimson  war  above  my  country  lower, 
And,  in  my  log-ribbed  cabin,  felt  oppression's  ruthle.«s  power, 
"When  England  poured  her  hireling  sons  o'er  mountain-top  and  plain, 
And  inward  felt  my  soul  on  fire  to  cancel  that  foul  stain. 

2.  It  braved  proud  Britain's  marshaled  hosts,  her  gUttering  pomp  and  pridei 
Nor  feared  to  quench  youth's  patriot  flame  in  life's  red-gushing  tide: 
One  deep  impassioned  pulse  alone  each  wild  emotion  swayed ; 
Columbia  called  her  free-born  sons  to  lend  her  hope  and  aid. 

3.  Then  pealed  the  trumpet's  thrilling  note  upon  the  muttering  gale, 
And  upward  rose  the  cry,  "  To  Arms  !"  from  mountain  side  and  vale; 
While  echo  from  his  giant  lungs,  prolonged  the  martial  cry, 
Till  loudly  shouted  woods  and  hiUs,  and  laughed  a  hoarse  reply. 

4.  His  grateful  task  the  plowman  quit,  and,  waving  high  m  air 
His  helmet,  plume,  and  whetted  steel,  far-flashing,  bright,  and  bare. 
Into  the  whirling  vortex  plunged,  where  drunken  conflict  reeled. 
And  warriors,  locked  in  death's  embrace,  lay  quivering  on  the  field. 

5.  Scarce  eighteen  summers  then  I'd  seen,  my  soul  yet  throbbed  for  fame, 
The  patriot's  love  had  blazed  therein,  to  one  fierce,  quenchless  flame ; 
I  grasped  my  country's  stainless  flag,  and  mingled  with  the  foe. 
Where  battle's  blood-red  biUows  clash,  and  tides  of  slaughter  flow. 

6.  (si.)  But  now  I  am  a  feeble  man, — they  tell  me  I  am  old ; 
What  means  this  faint  and  languid  pulse  ?  My  limbs  grow  stiff  and  cold  j 
The  world  is  fading  from  my  view, — my  sight  is  dim  and  weak. 
And  ah  I  some  power  is  pressing  here,  that  will  not  let  me  speak.  .' 

'i 

1.  (")  Away,  my  son !  bring  me  that  flag,  and  spread  it  out  on  high,  j 

Before  the  leaden  sleep  of  death  shall  seal  my  swimming  eye ;  ; 

Oh  1  shroud  me  in  its  sacred  folds,  its  holy  stripes  and  stars. 
No  meeter  pall  is  there  to  hide  an  old  man's  wounds  and  scars. 

8.  It  floated  o'er  the  gory  field  where  brave  Montgomery  fell. 
While  pale-faced  carnage  ghastly  scowled, — I  marked  his  aspect  well, — 
Till  vultures  poised  on  balanced  wing,  in  air  suspended  stood. 
And  8nufi"ed,  upon  the  streammg  gales,  their  feast  of  human  blood. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  245 

9.  'Tis  well !  and  now,  my  darling  boy,  my  last  bequest  to  thee, 
Js  that  ihou  wouldst  defend  this  tlag, — this  banner  of  the  free ; 
If]  unavenged,  a  foeman  dare  to  blot  its  glorious  sun, 
Thy  father's  blessing  shall  not  rest  on  his  degenerate  son. 

10.  Thus  spoke  an  aged,  patriot  chief,  and  one  brief  moment  smiled, 
Then  clasped  with  parent  tenderness,  that  fondly  cherished  child ; 
Around  him  ■^Tapped  his  country's  flag,  ere  his  proud  soul  retired, 
And  thus  beneath  its  mantlmg  folds  the  patriot  chief  expired. 


LESSON  LXXXIY* 

THE  AMERICAN  FLAG. 

J.  C.  PRAY,  JB. 

1  Hail  !  Standard  of  the  free  and  bold  ! 

I  love  thy  waving  gorgeousness, 
Which  seems,  like  changing  skies,  to  fold 

Thy  stars  which,  fixed,  both  guide  and  bless ! 
They  are  the  emblems  true  of  States, 

Linked  fast  in  league  well  known  to  fame, — 
Whose  souls  thy  glory  emulates, — 

Whose  sons  shall  never  read  thy  shame, 
Till,  as  a  Pleiad  gone  from  Heaven's  own  blue, 
A  star  be  lost  from  thy  holy  hue. 

2.  Float  ever.  Flag,  as  when  at  first, 

Our  fathers  bore  thee  through  the  air. 
And  pledged  their  lives,  while  on  them  burst 

Thy  glorious  stars  in  splendor  there, — 
Ay,  pledged  their  lives  and  libertj-. 

While  thou  their  canopy  shouldst  stand, 
To  guard,  protect,  and  honor  thee, — 

The  emblem  of  our  rising  land  : 
Ay ! — float  as  when  each  soldier  in  his  tent, 
Dreamed  that  his  flag  was  the  firmament. 

3.  Thou  lofty  ensign  of  the  free, — 

May  every  land  thy  glory  know ; 
And  every  freeman  cling  to  thee, 
While  breezes  'mid  thy  folds  shall  flow. 


24:6  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES 

May  hand,  and  heart,  and  hopes,  and  zeal, 
Be  ever  by  thy  form  inspired  ; 

And  should  it  shake  the  common  weal, 
May  every  soul  by  thee  be  fiied, — 

Each  patriot  heart  discern  amid  thy  form, 

A  beacon-star  in  the  battle-storm. 

• »»  ♦  »» . 


LESSON  LXXXY* 


Explanatory  Note. — 1.  The  Ig'  nis  Fat'  u  us  is  a  meteoric  light 
•which  appears  at  night,  over  marshy  grounds,  supposed  to  be  phosphoric 
matter  emitted  from  decaying  animals  or  vegetables.  It  disappears  as 
one  approaches  the  spot  where  it  was  seen.  The  words,  literally,  mean  a 
harmless  or  flashy  fire. 

MEMORY  AND  HOPE.— An  Apologue. 

JAMES  K.  PAULDING. 

1.  Hope  is  the  leading-string  of  youth ;  Memory  is  the 
staff  of  old  age ;  yet,  for  a  long  time,  they  were  at  variance, 
and  scarcely  ever  associated  together.  Memory  was  almost 
always  grave, — nay,  sad  and  melancholy.  She  delighted  in 
silence  and  repose,  amid  rocks  and  waterfalls, — and,  whenever 
she  raised  her  eyes  from  the  ground,  it  was  to  look  back  over 
her  shoulder.  Hope  was  a  smiling,  dancing,  rosy  boy,  with 
sparkling  eyes,  whom  it  was  impossible  to  look  upon,  without 
being  inspired  by  his  gay  and  sprightly  buoyance. 

2.  Wherever  he  went,  he  diffused  around  him  gladness  and 
joy, — the  eyes  of  the  young  sparkled  brighter  than  ever  at  his 
approach, — old  age,  as  it  cast  its  dim  glance  at  the  blue  vault 
of  heaven,  seemed  inspired  with  new  vigor, — the  flowers 
looked  more  gay, — the  grass,  more  green, — the  birds  sung 
more  cheerily, — and  all  nature  seemed  to  sympathize  in  his 
gladness.  Memory  was  of  mortal  birth  ;  but  Hope  partook  of 
immortality. 

3.  Once  they  chanced  to  meet,  and  Memory  reproached 
Hope  with  being  a  deceiver, — she  charged  him  with  deluding 
mankind  by  visionary,  impracticable  schemes,  and  exciting  ex- 
pectations that  only  led  to  disappointment  and  regret, — with 


FIFTH     BOOK.  247 

being  the  ignis  fatuus^  of  youth,  and  the  scourge  of  old  age. 
But  Hope  cast  back  upon  her  the  charge  of  deceit,  and  main- 
tained that  the  pictures  of  the  past  were  as  much  exaggerated 
by  Memory  as  were  the  anticipations  of  Hope.  He  declared 
that  she  looked  at  objects  at  a  great  distance  in  the  past, — he, 
in  the  future, — and  that  this  distance  magnified  every  thing. 
"  Let  us  make  the  circuit  of  the  world,"  said  he,  "  and  try  the 
experiment."  Memory  consented,  reluctantly,  and  they  went 
their  way  together. 

4.  The  first  person  they  met  was  a  school-boy,  loungin-g 
lazily  along,  and  stopping  every  moment  to  gaze  around,  as  if 
unwilling  to  proceed  on  his  way ; — by-and-by  he  sat  down 
and  burst  into  tears.  "  Whither  so  fast,  my  good  lad  ?"  asked 
Hope,  cheeringly.  "  I  am  going  to  school,"  replied  the  lad, 
"  to  study,  when  I  would  a  thousand  times  rather  be  at  play, 
— and  to  sit  on  a  bench  with  a  book  in  my  hand,  while  I  long 
to  be  sporting  in  the  fields.  But  never  mind,  I  shall  be  a 
man  soon,  and  then  I  shall  be  as  free  as  the  air."  Saying  this, 
he  skipped  away  merrily,  in  the  hope  of  soon  being  a  man. 
"  It  is  thus  you  play  upon  the  inexperience  of  youth,"  said 
Memory,  reproachfully. 

5.  Passing  onward,  they  met  a  beautiful  girl,  pacing,  in  a 
slow  and  melancholy  manner,  behind  a  party  of  gay  young 
men  and  maidens  who  walked  arm  in  arm  with  each  other, 
and  were  flirting  and  exchanging  all  those  harmless  courtesies 
which  nature  prompts  on  such  occasions.  They  were  all  gayly 
dressed  in  silks  and  ribbons  ;  but  the  little  girl  had  on  a  simple 
frock,  a  homely  apron,  and  clumsy  thick-soled  shoes.  "  Why 
do  you  not  join  yonder  group,"  asked  Hope,  "  and  partake  in 
the  gayety,  my  pretty  little  girl  ?"  "  Alas !"  replied  she, 
"  they  take  no  notice  of  me.  They  call  me  a  child.  But  I 
shall  soon  be  a  woman,  and  then  I  shall  be  so  happy !"  In- 
spired by  this  hope,  she  quickened  her  pace,  and  was  soon 
seen  dancing  merrily  with  the  rest. 

6.  In  this  manner  they  wended  their  way,  from  nation  to 
nation,  and  clime  to  clime,  until  they  had  made  the  circuit  of 
the  universe.     Wherever  they  came,  they  found  the  human 


248  SANDERS'      NEW      SERIES. 

race,  repining  at  the  present,  and  looking  forward  to  a  riper  age 
for  happiness.  All  anticipated  some  future  good, — and  Mem- 
ory had  scarce  any  thing  to  do  but  cast  looks  of  reproach 
at  her  companion.  "  Let  us  return  home,"  said  she,  "  to  that 
delightful  spot  whei-e  I  first  drew  my  breath.  I  long  to  re- 
pose among  its  beautiful  bowers, — to  listen  to  the  brooks  that 
murmured  a  thousand  times  sweeter, — and  to  the  echoes  that 
Viere  softer  than  any  I  have  since  heard.  Ah !  there  is 
nothing  on  earth  so  enchanting  as  the  scenes  of  my  earliest 
youth." 

7.  Hope  indulged  himself  in  a  sly,  significant  smile,  and 
they  proceeded  on  their  way  home.  As  they  journeyed  but 
slowly,  many  yeers  elapsed  ere  they  reached  the  spot  whence 
they  had  departed.  It  so  happened  one  day  that  they  met  an 
old  man,  bending  under  the  weight  of  years,  and  walking  with 
trembling  steps,  leaning  on  his  staff".  Memory  at  once  recog- 
nized him  as  the  youth  they  had  seen  going  to  school,  in  their 
first  outset  in  the  tour  of  the  world.  As  they  came  nearer, 
the  old  man  reclined  on  his  staff",  and,  looking  at  Hope,  who 
being  immortal,  was  still  a  blithe  young  boy,  sighed  as  if  his 
heart  was  breaking. 

8.  "  What  aileth  thee,  old  man?"  asked  the  y,ath.  "  What 
aileth !"  he  replied,  in  a  feeble,  faltering  voice,—-'-  what  should 
ail  me  but  old  age?  I  have  outlived  my  healtii  and  strength, 
— I  have  survived  all  that  was  near  and  dear, — I  have  seen 
all  I  loved,  or  that  loved  me, — and  now  I  stand  like  an  old 
tree,  withering  alone  in  the  world,  without  roots,  without 
branches,  and  without  verdure.  I  have  only  just  enough  sen- 
sation to  know  that  I  am  miserable, — and  the  recollection  of 
the  happiness  of  youthful  days,  when,  careless  and  full  of 
blissful  anticipations,  I  was  a  laughing  merry  boy,  only  adds  to 
the  miseries  I  now  endure." 

9.  "  Behold  !"  cried  Hope,  "  the  deception  practiced  by  thy- 
self! Dost  thou  remember  the  boy  we  met  when  we  first  set 
out  together,  who  was  weeping  on  his  way  to  school,  and  sigh- 
ing to  be  a  man  ?" 

10.  A  little  onward  they  came  to  a  miserable  cottage,  at  the 


FIFTH     BOOK.  249 

door  of  wlucli  was  an  aged  woman,  meanly  clad,  and  shaking 
with  the  palsy, — she  sat  all  alone, — her  head  resting  on  her 
bosom, — and,  as  the  pair  approached,  vainly  tried  to  raise  it  up 
to  look  at  them.  "Good-morrow,  old  lady — and  all  happiness 
to  you,"  cried  Hope,  gayly,  and  the  old  woman  thought  it  was 
a  long  time  since  she  had  heard  such  a  charming  salutation. 

11.  "Happiness!"  said  she,  in  a  voice  that  quivered  with 
weakness  and  infirmity.  "  Happiness  !  I  have  had  it  not  since 
1  was  a  little  girl,  without  care  or  sorrow.  O,  I  remember 
those  delightful  days  when  I  thought  of  nothing  but  the  pres- 
ent moment, — nor  cared  for  the  future  or  the  past !  When  I 
laughed,  and  played,  and  sung,  from  morning  till  night,  and 
en\ied  no  one,  or  wished  to  be  any  other  than  I  was.  But 
those  happy  times  are  past,  never  to  return,  0,  if  I  could 
only  once  more  return  to  the  days  of  my  childhood !" 

12.  The  old  woman  sunk  back  on  her  seat,  and  the  tears 
flowed  from  her  hollow  eyes.  Hope  again  reproached  her 
companion, — but  he  only  asked  her,  if  she  recollected  the  little 
girl  they  had  met  a  long  time  ago,  who  was  so  miserable  be- 
cause she  was  so  young.  Memory  knew  it  well  enough,  and 
said  not  another  word. 

13.  They  now  approached  their  home,  and  Memory  was 
on  tiptoe,  at  the  thoughts  of  once  more  enjoying  the  unequaled 
beauties  of  those  scenes,  from  which  she  had  been  so  long 
separated.  But,  some  how  or  other,  it  seemed  that  they  were 
sadly  changed.  Neither  the  grass  was  so  green, — the  flowers 
so  sweet  and  lovely, — nor  did  the  brooks  murmur, — the  echoes 
answer,  or  the  birds  sing  half  so  enchantingly,  as  she  remem- 
bered them  in  long  time  past.  "  Alas  !"  she  exclaimed,  "  how 
changed  is  every  thing !" 

'     14.  "  Every  thing  is  the  same, — and  thou  alone  art  changed,"  ' 
answered  Hope.     "  Thou  hast  deceived  thyself  in  the  past, 
much  as  I  deceive  others  in  the  future." 

15.  "  What  is  it  you  are  disputing  about  ?"  asked  an  old  man, 
whom  they  had  not  observed  before,  though  he  was  standing 
close  by  them  ;  "  I  have  lived  almost  four-score  and  ten  years, 
and  my  experience  may,  perhaps,  enable  me  to  decide  between 


250  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

you."  They  told  him  the  occasion  of  their  disagreement,  and 
related  the  histoiy  of  their  journey  around  the  earth.  The  old 
man  smiled,  and,  for  a  few  moments,  sat  buried  in  thought. 
He  then  said  to  them  : — "  I,  too,  have  lived  to  see  all  the  hopes 
of  my  youth  turned  into  shadows,  clouds,  and  darkness,  and 
vanish  into  nothing.  I,  too,  have  survived  my  fbrtune,  my 
friends,  my  children,  the  hilarity  of  youth,  and  the  blessings 
of  health  !" 

16.  "  And  dost  thou  not  despair  ?"  said  Memory.  "  No ;  I  still 
have  one  hope  left  me."  "  And  what  is  that  ?"  "  The  hope 
of  Heaven !"  Memory  turned  toward  Hope,  threw  herself 
into  his  arms  which  opened  to  receive  her,  and  burst  into 
tears,  exclaiming: — "Forgive  me, — I  have  done  thee  injustice. 
Let  us  never  again  separate  from  each  other."  "  With  all  my 
heart,"  said  Hope  ;  and  they  continued,  forever  after,  to  travel 
together,  hand  in  hand,  through  the  world. 


>  >  ♦  >  ■ 


LESSON  LXXXVU 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Mu'  ral  vaeaxts  pertaining  to  a  wall.  Among 
the  ancient  Romans,  a  mural  crown,  or  golden  crown,  was  bestowed 
on  him  who  first  mounted  the  wall  of  a  besieged  city,  and  there  lodged  a 
standard. 

2.  E  phem'  e  ra  literally  denotes  that  species  of  insects  which  live  only 
one  day.  It  is,  also,  applied  to  insects  which  live  but  a  short  time,  whether 
several  days  or  an  hour.     Figuratively,  it  denotes  any  thing  short-Uved. 

THE    CHRISTIAN'S    HOPE. 

1.  "  Say,  what  is  Hope  ?"  I  asked  an  ancient  sage, 
With  tott'ring  gait,  and  head  quite  white  with  age  ; 
"  Hope  !"  he  replied,  "  'tis  but  a  meteor  ray, 

A  breath,  a  dream,  the  phantom  of  a  day." 

2.  I  asked  the  mariner  on  ocean's  wave, 
Where  many  thousands  find  an  early  grave ; 

"  My  hope,"  he  said,  "  lies  on  that  distant  strand. 
The  happy  spot,  I  call  my  native  land." 
8.  I  asked  the  warrior  on  the  tented  plain, 

Now  strewed  with  bodies  of  the  conquered  slain ; 


riFTH     BOOK.  251 

"  My  hope,"  he  said,  "  consists  in  high  renown, 
In  wreaths  of  laurels,  or  in  mural'  crown." 
4.  I  asked  the  airy  sons  of  folly  gay, 
The  bright  ephemera'  of  fashion's  ray  ; 
"  Hope  is  the  sun  of  life,  his  quick'ning  power 
Gilds,  as  they  pass,  each  tiresome,  ling'ring  hour." 

6. 1  asked  an  aged  worldling  who  had  run 

His  giddy  race, — his  course  was  well  nigh  done  ; 
With  haggard  looks  he  gazed  on  all  around, 
And  dashed  fair  pleasure's  chalice  on  the  ground, 
And  said,  in  tones  of  deepest  misery  : — 
"  What's  hope  !  alas  !  there  is  no  hope  for  me. 
Oh  !  'tis  a  bubble,  false,  delusive,  fair, — 
Inflated  but  to  burst  in  wild  despair  1" 

6. 1  asked  an  aged  Christian,  and  his  eye 
Beamed  with  unearthly  luster  in  reply  ; 
"  Hope  is  my  anchor,  steadfast,  sure,  and  strong, 
In  many  sorrows,  and  in  trials  long ; 
Although  I  am  a  worm  of  feeble  dust, 
On  this  Almighty  Rock  I  place  my  trust. 

7.  "  But,  when  my  earthly  pilgrimage  is  o'er, 
And  I  shall  reach  yon  blest,  celestial  shore, 
Then,  vailed  from  weeping  mortals'  finite  sight, 
Hope  shall  be  lost  in  full,  supreme  delight ; 
And  ev'ry  passion  shall  be  hushed  to  bliss, 
In  pure,  ecstatic,  lasting  happiness." 


8.  Unfading  Hope  !  when  life's  last  embers  burn, — 
When  soul  to  soul,  and  dust  to  dust,  return, — 
Heaven  to  thy  charge  resigns  the  awful  hour, — 
O,  then  thy  kingdom  eomes.  Immortal  Power  ! 
What  though  each  spark  of  earth-born  rapture  fly 
The  quivering  lip,  pale  cheek,  and  closing  eye, 
Bright  to  the  soul  thy  seraph  hands  convey 
The  morning  dream  of  life's  eternal  day. — Campbell. 


252  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON    LXXXVIU 

THE  PURE  m  HEART  SHALL  MEET  AGAIN. 

WILLIAM  LEOGBTT 

1.  If  yon  bright  stars,  which  gem  the  night, 

Be  each  a  blissful  dwelling  sphere, 
Where  kindred  spirits  re-unite, 

Whom  Death  hath  torn  asunder  here, — 
How  sweet  it  were  at  once  to  die. 

And  leave  this  blighted  orb  afar, — 
Meet  soul  with  soul,  to  cleave  the  sky, 

And  soar  away  from  star  to  star. 

2.  But  O,  how  dark,  how  drear,  how  lone, 

Would  seem  the  brig;htest  world  of  bliss. 
If,  wandering  through  each  radiant  one. 

We  failed  to  find  the  loved  of  this  ! — 
If  there  no  more  the  ties  shall  twine. 

That  Death's  cold  hand  alone  can  sever ! 
Ah !  then  those  stars  in  mockery  shine, 

More  hateful  as  they  shine  forever. 

3.  It  can  not  be  ;  each  hope,  each  fear. 

That  lights  the  eye,  or  clouds  the  brow, 
Proclaims  there  is  a  happier  sphere 

Than  this  bleak  world  that  holds  us  now. 
There  is  a  voice  which  sorrow  hears. 

When  heaviest  weighs  life's  galling  chain,— 
'Tis  Heaven  that  whispers  : — "  Dry  thy  tears. 

The  pure,  in  heart  shall  meet  again." 


LESSON  LXXXVni* 

THE    EXISTENCE    OF    A    GOD. 

, , "  The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart,  there  is  no  God." 

1.  Go  out  beneath  the  arched  heavens,  at  night,  and  say,  if 
you  can,  "  There  is  no  God  /"  Pronounce  that  dreadful  blas- 
phemy, and  each  star  above  you  will  reproach  the  unbroken 


FIFTH    BOOK.  253 

darkness  of  your  intellect ;    every  voice  tliat  floats  upon  the 
night  winds,  will  bewail  your  utter  hopelessness  and  folly ! 

2.  Is  there  no  God  ?  Who,  then,  unrolled  the  blue  scroll, 
and  threw  upon  its  high  frontispiece  the  legible  gleamings  of 
immortality  ?  Who  fashioned  this  green  earth,  with  its  per- 
petual rolling  waters,  and  its  wide  expanse  of  islands  and  of 
main  ?  Who  settled  the  foundations  of  the  mountains  ?  W^ho 
paved  the  heavens  with  clouds,  and  attuned,  amid  the  clamor 
of  storms,  the  voice  of  thunders,  and  unchained  the  lightnings 
that  flash  in  their  gloom  ? 

3.  Who  gave  to  the  eagle  a  safe  eyry,  where  the  tempests 
dwell  and  beat  the  strongest,  and  to  the  dove  a  tranquil  abode 
amid  the  forests  that  echo  to  the  minstrelsy  of  her  moan  ? 
Who  made  thee,  O  man !  with  thy  perfected  elegance  of  in- 
tellect and  form  ?  Who  made  the  light  pleasant  to  thee,  and 
the  darkness  a  covering,  and  a  herald  to  the  first  gorgeous 
flashes  of  the  morning  ? 


4.  There  is  A  God.  All  nature  declares  it  in  a  language  too 
plain  to  be  misapprehended.  The  great  truth  is  too  legibly 
written  over  the  face  of  the  whole  creation  to  be  easily  mistaken. 
Thou  canst  behold  it  in  the  tender  blade,  just  starting  from 
the  earth  in  early  spring,  or  in  the  sturdy  oak  that  has  with- 
stood the  blasts  of  fourscore  winters.  The  purling  rivulet, 
meandering  through  downy  meads  and  verdant  glens,  and  Ni- 
agara's tremendous  torrent,  leaping  over  its  awful  chasm,  and 
rolling  in  majesty  its  broad  sheet  of  waters  onward  to  the 
ocean,  unite  in  proclaiming — "There  is  a  God." 

6.  'Tis  heard  in  the  whispering  breeze  and  in  the  howling 
storm ;  in  the  deep-toned  thunder,  and  in  the  earthquake's 
shock ;  'tis  declared  to  us  when  the  tempest  lowers, — when 
the  hurricane  sweeps  over  the  land, — when  the  winds  moan 
around  our  dwellings,  and  die  in  sullen  murmurs  on  the  plain, 
— when  the  heavens,  overcast  with  blackness,  ever  and  anon 
are  illuminated  by  the  lightning's  glare. 

6.  Nor  is  the  truth  less  solemnly  impressed  on  our  minds 


254  SANDERS'      NEW      SERIES. 

in  the  universal  hush  and  calm  repose  of  nature,  when  all  is 
still  as  the  soft  breathings  of  an  infant's  slumber.  The  vast 
ocean,  when  its  broad  expanse  is  whitened  with  foam,  and 
when  its  heaving  waves  roll  mountain  on  mountain  high,  or 
when  the  dark  blue  of  heaven's  vault  is  reflected  with  beauty 
on  its  smooth  and  tranquil  bosom,  confirms  the  declaration. 
The  twinkling  star,  shedding  its  flickering  rays  so  far  above 
the  reach  of  human  ken,  and  the  glorious  sun  in  the  heavens, 
— all — all  declare,  there  is  a  universal  First  Cause, 

1.  And  Man,  the  proud  lord  of  creation,  so  fearfully  and 
wonderfully  made, — each  joint  in  its  corresponding  socket,— 
each  muscle,  tendon,  and  artery,  performing  their  allotted 
functions  with  all  the  precision  of  the  most  perfect  mechan- 
ism,— and,  surpassing  all,  possessed  of  a  soul  capable  of  enjoy- 
ing the  most  exquisite  pleasure,  or  of  enduring  the  most  ex- 
cruciating pain,  which  is  endowed  with  immortal  capacities, 
and  is  destined  to  live  onward  through  the  endless  ages  of 
eternity, — these  all  unite  in  one  general  proclamation  of  the 
eternal  truth, — there  is  a  Being,  infinite  in  wisdom,  who  reigns 
over  all,  undivided  and  supreme, — the  Fountain  of  all  life, 
Source  of  all  light, — from  whom  all  blessings  flow,  and  in 
whom  all  happiness  centers. 


■ «  ♦  ■  I 


LESSON  LXXXIX* 

ATHEISM  REPROVED. 

From  the  Italian. 

1.  "  There  is  no  God,"  the  fool  in  secret  said, — 

"  There  is  no  God  that  rules  or  earth  or  sky  !'* 
Tear  off  the  band  that  folds  the  wretch's  head. 

That  God  may  burst  upon  his  faithless  eye  ! 
Is  there  no  God  ? — the  stars,  in  myriads  spread, 

If  he  look  up,  the  blasphemy  deny ; 
While  his  own  features,  in  the  mirror  read, 

Eeflect  the  image  of  Divinity. 

2.  Is  there  no  God  ? — ^the  stream  that  silv'ry  flows, 

The  air  he  breathes,  the  ground  he  treads,  the  trees, 


FIFTH     BOOK.  265 

The  flowers,  the  grass,  the  sands,  each  -wind  that  blows, 
All  speak  of  God ;  through  one  voice  each  agrees. 

And  eloquent  his  dread  existence  shows  ; — 
Blind  to  thyself,  ah,  see  him,  fool,  in  these ! 


1.  "  No  God  !     No  God  !"— The  simplest  flower 

That  on  the  wild  is  found, 
Shrinks,  as  it  drinks  its  cup  of  dew. 
And  trembles  at  the  sound, 

2.  "  No  God  !"  astonished  Echo  cries 

From  out  her  casern  hoar. 
And  every  wandering  bird  that  flies, 
Eeproves  the  Atheist  lore. 

3.  The  solemn  forest  lifts  its  head, 

Th'  Almighty  to  proclaim  ; 
The  brooklet  on  its  crystal  bed, 
Doth  leap  to  praise  his  name. 

4.  High  sweeps  the  deep  and  vengeful  sea, 

Along  its  billowy  track, 
And  red  Vesuvius  opes  its  mouth. 
To  hurl  the  falsehood  back. 

5.  The  palm-tree,  with  its  princely  crest, — 

The  cocoa's  lofty  shade, — 
The  bread-fruit  bending  to  its  lord, 
In  yon  fair  island  glade  ; — 

6.  The  winged  seeds,  borne  by  the  winds, 

The  roving  sparrow's  feed, — 
The  melon  on  the  desert  sands, — 
Confute  the  scorn  er's  creed. 

7.  "  No  God  !" — with  indignation  high 

The  fervent  sun  is  stirred ; 
And  the  pale  moon  turns  paler  still 
At  such  an  impious  word ! 


256  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

8.  And  from  tlieir  burning  thrones,  the  stars 
Look  down  with  angry  eye, 
That  thus  a  worm  of  dust  should  mock 

Eternal  Majesty  !  Mrs.  Sigourney. 


LESSON    XC* 

LIFE  IS  WHAT  WE  MAKE  IT. 

0.  DEWET. 
"  Unto  the  pure,  are  all  things  pure." 

1.  Life  is  what  we  make  it.  To  some,  this  may  appear  to 
be  a  very  singular,  if  not  extravagant  statement.  You  look 
upon  this  life  and  upon  this  world,  and  you  derive  from  them, 
it  may  be,  a  very  different  impression.  You  see  the  earth,  per- 
haps, only  as  a  collection  of  blind,  obdurate,  inexorable  elements 
and  powers.  You  look  upon  the  mountains  that  stand  fast 
forever ;  you  look  upon  the  seas  that  roll  upon  every  shore 
their  ceaseless  tides  ;  you  walk  through  the  annual  round  of 
the  seasons  ;  all  things  seem  to  be  fixed,  summer  and  winter, 
seed-time  and  harvest,  growth  and  decay  ;  and  so  they  are. 

2.  But  does  not  the  mind  spread  its  own  hue  over  all  these 
scenes  ?  Does  not  the  cheerful  man  make  a  cheerful  world  ? 
Does  not  the  sorrowing  man  make  a  gloomy  world  ?  Does 
not  every  mind  make  its  own  world  ?  Does  it  not,  as  if  indeed 
a  portion  of  the  Divinity  were  imparted  to  it,  almost  create  the 
scene  around  it?  Its  power,  in  fact,  scarcely  falls  short  of  the 
theory  of  those  philosophers  who  have  supposed  that  the 
world  had  no  existence  at  all,  but  in  our  own  minds. 

3.  So  again  with  regard  to  human  life; — it  seems  to  many, 
probably,  unconscious  as  they  are  of  the  mental  and  moral 
powers  which  control  it,  as  if  it  were  made  up  of  fixed  condi- 
tions, and  of  immense  and  impassable  distinctions.  But  upon 
all  conditions  presses  down  one  impartial  law.  To  all  situa- 
tions, to  all  fortunes,  high  or  low,  the  mind  gives  their  charac- 
ter. They  are  in  effect,  not  what  they  are  in  themselves,  but 
what  they  are  to  the  feelings  of  their  possessors. 

4.  The  king  upon  his  tlirone  and  amidst  his  court,  may  be 


FIFTH     BOOK.  257 

a  mean  degraded,  miserable  man, — a  slave  to  ambition,  to  vo- 
luptuousness, to  fear,  to  every  low  passion.  The  peasant,  in 
bis  cottage,  may  be  the  real  monarch, — the  moral  master  of 
his  fate, — the  free  and  lofty  being,  more  than  a  prince  in  hap- 
piness, more  than  a  king  in  honor.  And  shall  the  mere  names 
which  these  men  bear,  blind  us  to  the  actual  position  which 
they  occupy  amidst  God's  creation  ?  No ;  beneath  the  all- 
powerful  law  of  the  heart,  the  master  is  often  the  slave,  and 
the  slave  is  the  master. 

5.  It  is  the  same  creation,  upon  which  the  eyes  of  the  cheer- 
ful and  the  melancholy  man,  are  fixed  ;  yet  how  different 
are  the  aspects  which  it  bears  to  them  !  To  the  one  it  is  all 
beauty  and  gladness ;  "  the  waves  of  ocean  roll  in  light,  and 
the  mountains  are  covered  with  day."  It  seems  to  him  as  if 
life  went  forth,  rejoicing  upon  every  bright  wave,  and  every 
shining  bough,  shaken  in  the  breeze.  It  seems  as  if  there 
were  more  than  the  eye  seeth, — a  presence  of  deep  joy  among 
the  hills  and  the  valleys,  and  upon  the  bright  waters. 

6.  But  the  gloomy  man,  stricken  and  sad  at  heart,  stands 
idly  or  mournfully  gazing  at  the  same  scene,  and  what  is  it  to 
him  ?     The  very  light, — 

"Bright  effluence  of  bright  essence  increate," 

yea,  the  very  light  seems  to  him  as  a  leaden  pall  thrown  over 
the  face  of  nature.  All  things  wear  to  his  eye  a  dull,  dim, 
and  sickly  aspect.  The  great  train  of  the  seasons  is  passing 
before  him,  but  he  sighs  and  turns  away,  as  if  it  were  the 
train  of  a  funeral  procession  ;  and  he  wonders  within  himself 
at  the  poetic  representations  and  sentimental  rhapsodies  that 
are  lavished  upon  a  world  so  utterly  miserable. 

7.  Here,  then,  are  two  different  worlds,  in  which  these  two 
classes  of  beings  live ;  and  they  are  formed  and  made  what 
they  are,  out  of  the  very  same  scene,  only  by  different  states 
of  mind  in  the  beholders.  The  eye  maketh  that  which  it  looks 
upon.  The  ear  maketh  its  own  melodies  or  discords.  The 
world  without  reflects  the  world  within. 

8.  Every  disposition  and  behavior  has  a  kind  of  magnetic 


258  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

attraction,  by  which  it  draws  to  itself  its  like.  Selfishness 
wiil  hardly  be  a  center,  round  which  the  benevolent  affections 
will  revolve  ;  the  cold-hearted  may  expect  to  be  treated  with 
coldness,  and  the  proud  with  haughtiness  ;  the  passionate  with 
anger,  and  the  violent  with  rudeness ;  those  who  forget  the 
rights  of  others,  must  not  be  surprised,  if  their  own  are  forgot- 
ten ;  and  those  who  forget  their  dignity,  who  stoop  to  the 
lowest  embraces  of  sense,  must  not  wonder,  if  others  are  rot 
concerned  to  find  their  prostrate  honor,  and  to  lift  it  up  to  the 
remembrance  and  respect  of  the  world. 

9.  To  the  gentle,  how  many  will  be  gentle  !  to  the  kind, 
how  many  will  be  kind  !  How  many  does  a  lovely  example 
win  to  goodness !  How  many  does  meekness  subdue  to  a  like 
temper,  when  they  come  into  its  presence  ?  How  many  does 
sanctity  purify  ?  How  many  does  it  command  to  put  away  all 
earthly  defilements,  when  they  step  into  its  presence  !  Yes;  a 
good  man  will  find  that  there  is  goodness  in  the  world ;  an 
honest  man  will  find  that  there  is  honesty  ;  a  man  of  principle 
will  find  a  principle  of  religious  integrity  in  the  hearts  of 
others. 

10.  There  are  no  blessings  which  the  mind  may  not  convert 
into  the  bitterest  of  evils;  and  there  are  no  trials  which  it  may 
not  transform  into  the  most  noble  and  divine  of  blessings. 
There  are  no  temptations,  from  which  the  virtue  they  assail, 
may  not  gain  strength,  instead  of  falling  a  sacrifice  to  their 
power. 


LESSON  XCU 
THE   WORLD,  THE    MIRROR   OF   THE   MIND. 

1.  Yes  ;  man  reduplicates  himself.     You  see, 
In  yonder  lake  reflected,  rock  and  tree. 
Each  leaf  at  rest,  or  quivering  in  the  air, 
Now  rests,  now  stirs  as  if  a  breeze  were  there, 
Sweeping  the  crystal  depths.     How  perfect  all! 
And  see  those  slender  top-boughs  rise  and  fall ; 


FIFTH     BOOK.  259 

The  double  strips  of  silvery  sand  unite, 
Above,  below,  each  grain  distinct  and  bright. 

•2.  The  world,  0  man,  is  like  that  flood  to  thee ; 
Turn  where  thou  wilt,  thyself,  in  all  things,  see 
Reflected  back.     As  drives  the  blinding  sand 
Round  Egypt's  piles,  where'er  thou  tak'st  thy  stand, 
If  that  thy  heart  be  barren,  there  will  sweep 
The  drifting  waste,  like  waves  along  the  deep  ; 
Fill  up  the  vale  and  choke  the  laughing  streams, 
That  ran  by  grass  and  brake,  with  dancing  beams ; 
Sear  the  fresh  woods,  and  from  the  heavy  eye 
Vail  the  wide-shining  glories  o^*  the  sky, 
And  one  still,  sightless  level  make  the  earth. 
Like  thy  dull,  lonely,  joyless  Soul, — a  dearth. 

3    The  rill  is  tuneless  to  his  ear,  who  feels 
No  harmony  within  ;  the  south  wind  steals 
As  silent,  as  unseen  among  the  leaves. 
Who  has  no  inward  beauty,  none  perceives ; 
Though  all  around  is  beautiful.     Nay,  more, — 
In  nature's  calmest  hour  he  hears  the  roar 
Of  winds  and  flinging  waves, — puts  out  the  light, 
When  high  and  angry  passions  meet  in  fight ; 
And,  his  own  spirit  into  tumult  hurled, 
He  makes  a  turmoil  of  a  quiet  world  ; 
The  fiends  of  his  own  bosom  people  air 
With  kindred  fiends  that  hunt  him  in  despair. 
Hates  he  his  fellow-men  ?     Why,  then,  he  deems 
'Tis  hate  for  hate  : — as  he,  so  each  one  seems. 

4.  Soul !  fearful  is  thy  power,  which  thus  transforms 
All  things  into  thy  likeness  ;  heaves  in  storms 
The  strong,  proud  sea,  or  lays  it  down  to  rest, 
Like  the  hushed  infant  on  its  mother's  breast, — 
Which  gives  each  outward  circumstance  its  hue, 
And  shapes  the  thoughts  and  acts  of  men  anevv;^^ 
That  so,  they  joy,  or  love,  or  hate,  impart. 
As  joy,  love,  hate,  holds  rule  within  the  heart. 


260  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON  XCIU 

THE  CONVICT  SHIP. 

T.  K.  HERTBT. 

1.  Morn  on  the  waters  !  and  purple  and  bright, 
Bursts  on  the  billows  the  flashing  of  light ; 
O'er  the  glad  waves,  like  a  child  of  the  sun. 
See !  the  tall  vessel  goes  gallantly  on  ; 

Full  to  the  breeze  she  unbosoms  her  sail, 

And  her  pennon  streams  onward,  like  hope,  in  the  gale ; 

The  winds  come  around  her,  in  murmur  and  song, 

And  the  surges  rejoice  as  they  bear  her  along ; 

See !  she  looks  up  to  the  golden-edged  clouds. 

And  the  sailor  sings  gayly  aloft  in  the  shrouds. 

2.  Onward  she  glides,  amid  ripple  and  spray, 
O'er  the  rough  waters, — away,  and  away  ! 
Bright  as  the  visions  of  youth,  ere  they  part, 
Passing  away,  like  a  dream  of  the  heart ! 
Who, — as  the  beautiful  pageant  sweeps  by, 
Music  around  her,  and  sunshine  on  high, — 
Pauses  to  think,  amid  glitter  and  glow. 

Oh  !  there  are  hearts  that  are  breaking  below  ! 

3.  Night  on  the  waves  ! — and  the  moon  is  on  high. 
Hung,  like  a  gem,  on  the  brow  of  the  sky. 
Treading  its  depths  in  the  power  of  her  might. 
And  turning  the  clouds,  as  they  pass  her,  to  light ! 
Look  to  the  waters ! — asleep  on  their  breast. 
Seems  not  the  ship  like  an  island  of  rest  ? 
Bright  and  alone  on  the  shadowy  main. 

Like  a  heart-cherished  home  on  some  desolate  plain ! 

4.  Who, — as  she  smiles  in  the  silvery  light, 
Spreading  her  wings  on  the  bosom  of  night. 
Alone  on  the  deep,  as  the  moon  in  the  sky, 

A  phantom  of  beauty, — could  deem  with  a  sigh, 
That  so  lovely  a  thing  is  the  mansion  of  sin. 
And  souls  that  are  smitten,  lie  bursting  within  ? 


FIFTH     BOOK.  261 

5.  Who, — as  lie  watches  her  silently  gliding, — 
Remembers  that  wave  after  wave  is  dividing 
Bosoms  that  sorrow  and  guilt  could  not  sever, — 
Hearts  which  are  parted  and  broken  forever  ? 
Or  dreams  that  he  watches,  afloat  on  the  wave, 
The  death-bed  of  hope,  or  the  young  spirit's  grave  ? 

6.  'Tis  thus  with  our  life,  while  it  passes  along, 
Like  a  vessel  at  sea,  amidst  sunshine  and  song, 
Gayly  we  glide,  in  the  gaze  of  the  world, 

With  streamers  afloat,  and  with  canvas  unfurled ; 

All  gladness  and  glory,  to  wandering  eyes. 

Yet  chartered  by  sorrow,  and  freighted  with  sighs ; 

Fading  and  false  is  the  aspect  it  wears, 

As  the  smiles  we  put  on,  just  to  cover  our  tears; 

And  the  withering  thoughts  which  the  world  can  not  know, 

Like  heart-broken  exiles,  lie  burning  below  ; 

While  the  vessel  drives  on  to  that  desolate  shore. 

Where  the  dreams  of  our  childhood  are  vanished  and  o'er. 


*  ^  ••^^*- 


LESSON   xcnu 

THE  EVILS  OF  IGNORANCE. 

WATSON. 

"  There  is  a  spirit  in  man,  and  the  inspiration  of  the  Almighty  giveth 
him  understanding." 

1.  The  faculties  of  knowledge,  reason,  judgment,  and  vol- 
untary determination,  distinguish  us  from  the  beasts  that  perish, 
and  constitute  the  true  dignity  of  our  nature.  "  God,  our 
Maker,  hath  made  us  to  know  more  than  the  beasts  of  the 
field,  and  to  be  wiser  than  the  fowls  of  Heaven."  But  faculties 
and  powers  are  of  little  value,  till  they  are  brought  into  exer- 
cise, and  directed  to  their  proper  objects. 

2.  They  are  like  the  seed  of  vegetables  cast  upon  the  way- 
side, which,  though  it  contains  the  rudiments  of  the  future 
plant,  and  possesses  the  faculty,  or  power  of  vegetation,  exists 
without  end  and  without  use,  and  must  be  cast  into  the  earth, 
moistened  by  the  "  fatness  of  the  clouds,"  invigorated  by  the 
rays  of  the  sun,  and  tended  by  the  assiduous  care  of  the  hus- 


262  SANDEES'     NEW     SERIES, 

bandman,  before  it  can  bring  forth  fruit,  yield  its  increase,  and 
answer  its  designed  purpose  in  the  creation  of  God. 

3.  So  it  is  with  man.  Instruction  is  to  him  what  culture  is 
to  the  plant ;  and  when  he  is  deprived  of  its  aid,  his  powers 
either  remain  wholly  latent,  or  their  exercises,  like  the  produce 
of  the  uncultivated  plant,  are  wild  and  worthless.  Life  is 
spent  in  a  vacant  stupidity,  or  distracted  by  the  ebullitions  of 
a  heated  and  irregular  imagination  ;  judgment  is  perverted  by 
prejudices ;  and  reason  subjected  to  vicious  affections. 

4.  The  conduct  which  ought  to  have  been  the  result  of  judg- 
ment and  prudence,  is  impelled  by  sense  and  appetite  ;  and  he 
whose  powers,  had  they  been  rightly  improved,  would  have 
allied  him  to  angels,  and  stamped  upon  his  nature  the  image  of 
God,  is  reduced  to  a  situation  little  superior  to  the  irrational 
part  of  creation, — the  subject  of  instinct,  and  the  slave  of  passion. 

5.  Ignorance  destroys  the  usefulness  of  man.  "  Knowledge 
is  power,  and  Avisdom  is  better  than  strength."  Knowledge 
constitutes  the  whole  difference  between  savage  and  civilized 
society ;  for  to  the  improvement  of  the  mind,  all  nations  have 
owed  the  improvement  of  their  condition.  The  comforts  and 
conveniences  of  life,  useful  arts,  salutary  laws,  and  good  gov- 
ernments, are  all  the  productions  of  knowledge. 

6.  Ignorance  is  the  negative  of  every  thing  good  and  use- 
ful. It  is  the  darkness  of  night,  in  which  man  slumbers  away 
an  unprofitable  and  miserable  life, — a  darkness  which  the  rays 
of  knowledge  must  disperse,  before  he  will  awake  to  exercise, 
and  rise  into  improvement.  But  ignorance  not  only  renders 
the  members  of  a  community  useless  to  each  other,  but  op- 
poses, and  frequently  triumphs  over  all  the  endeavors  of  hu- 
mane and  enlightened  individua' 

7.  How  often  have  the  salutary  measures  of  the  patriotic 
statesman,  the  discoveries  of  the  sagacious  philosopher,  the 
improvements  of  the  ingenious  artist,  and  the  benevolent  in- 
stitutions of  the  distinguished  philanthropist,  been  rendered 
abortive  and  useless  by  popular  ignorance  and  popular  preju- 
dice !  The  despotism  of  ignorance  is  of  the  most  imperious 
nature.     Its  possession  of  the  human  mind,  at  the  age  of  ma- 


FIFTH     BOOK.  263 

turity,  is  firm  and  resisting  ;  and  it  is  only  by  a  kind  of  force 
that  knowledge  gains  admission. 

8.  Ignorance  is  destructive  of  virtue.  In  proportion,  there- 
fore, as  ignorance  prevails  in  society,  virtue  is  destroyed  ;  and 
though  we  can  not  say,  on  the  contrary,  that  in  proportion  as 
knowledge  is  disseminated,  virtue  will  prevail, — for  there  may 
be  knowledge  without  virtue, — yet  when  the  doctrines  of  re- 
(ligious  science,  are  generally  known,  the  elements  and  mate- 
rials of  virtue  are  proportionably  distributed ;  and  by  zeal  and 
assiduity,  accompanied  by  the  blessing  of  God,  virtue  itself 
may  be  produced.  In  this  case  we  labor  in  hope  ;  but  igno- 
rance presents  us  with  nothing  but  despair.  Ignorant  men 
may  possibly  be  made  enthusiasts  ;  they  may  be  made  super- 
stitious ;  but  before  they  can  be  made  rational,  steady,  and  con- 
sistent Christians,  they  must  be  enlightened. 

9.  Ignorance  is  destructive  of  happiness.  There  is  a  pleas- 
ure in  knowledge,  of  a  kind  more  pure  and  elevated  than  can 
possibly  be  found  in  any  of  the  gratifications  of  sense,  and  for 
which  the  latter  are  but  unworthy  substitutes.  Ignorance  is  a 
state,  cold  and  cheerless,  in  which  the  finer  feelings  of  the  hu- 
man soul  are  locked  up,  and  man  is  deprived  of  the  enjoyment 
which  results  from  their  exercise  and  perfection. 

10.  All  the  pleasures  of  the  uninformed,  if  pleasures  they 
may  be  called,  arise  only  from  outward  objects;  and,  when 
they  are  satiated  with  these,  or  deprived  of  the  opportunity 
of  resorting  to  them,  having  no  mental  resources,  no  power  of 
producing  enjoyment  from  their  own  thoughts  and  reflections, 
they  sink  into  a  vacancy  and  torpor,  little  superior  to  idiotism 
itself. 


LESSON   XCIV* 

THE  STUDENT. 

"  I  have  seen  the  pale  student,  bending  over  his  written  volume,  or 
studying  the  exhaustless  tomes  of  natm-e,  until  the  springs  of  life  were 
dried  up,  and, — he  died  1" 

1.  "Poor  fool  !"  the  base  and  soulless  worldling  cries, 
To  waste  his  strength  for  naught, — to  blanch  his  cheek, 


264  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

And  bring  pale  Death  upon  him  in  hia  prime. 
Why  did  he  not  to  pleasure  give  his  days, — 
His  nights  to  rest, — and  live  while  live  he  might  ?" 
"What  is 't  to  live  ?     To  breathe  the  vital  4ir, 
Consume  the  fruits  of  earth,  and  doze  away 
Existence  ?     Never  !  this  is  living  death, — 
'Tis  brutish  life, — base,  groveling.     E'en  the  brutes 
Of  nobler  nature,  live  not  lives  like  this. 
Shall  man,  then,  formed  to  be  creation's  lord, 
Stamped  with  the  impress  of  Divinity,  and  sealed 
With  God's  own  signet,  sink  below  the  brute  ? 
Forbid  it,  Heaven  !  it  can  not,  must  not  be  ! 

2.  Oh  !  when  the  mighty  God  from  nothing  brought 
This  universe, — when  at  His  word  the  light 
Burst  forth, — the  sun  was  set  in  heaven, — 

And  earth  was  clothed  in  beauty ;  when  the  last, 
The  noble  work  of  all,  from  dust  He  framed 
Our  bodies  in  His  image, — when  he  placed 
Within  its  temple-shrine  of  clay,  the  soul, — 
The  immortal  soul, — infused  by  His  own  truth, 
Did  He  not  show,  'tis  this  which  gives  to  man 
His  high  prerogative  ?     Why  then  declare 
That  he  who  thinks  less  of  his  worthless  frame, 
And  lives  a  spirit,  even  in  this  world, 
Lives  not  as  well, — lives  not  as  long,  as  he 
Who  drags  out  years  of  life,  without  one  thought, — 
One  hope, — one  wish  beyond  the  present  hour  ? 

3.  How  shall  we  measure  life  ?     Not  by  the  years, — 
The  months, — the  days, — the  moments  that  we  pass 
On  earth.     By  him  whose  soul  is  raised  above 

Base  worldly  things, — Avhose  heart  is  fixed  in  Heaven,- 

His  life  is  measured  by  that  soul's  advance, — 

Its  cleansing  from  pollution  and  from  sin, — 

The  enlargement  of  its  powers, — the  expanded  field 

Wherein  it  ranges, — till  it  glows  and  burns 

With  holy  joys, — with  high  and  heavenly  hopes. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  265 

4.  When  in  tlie  silent  night,  all  earth  lies  bushed 
In  slumber, — when  the  glorious  stars  shine  out, 
Each  star  a  sun, — each  sun  a  central  light 
Of  some  fair  system,  ever  wheeling  on  • 

In  one  unbroken  round, — and  that  again 
Revolving  round  another  sun, — while  all, 
Suns,  stars,  and  systems,  proudly  roll  along, 
In  one  majestic,  ever-onward  course, 
In  space  uncircumscribed  and  limitless, — 
Oh  !  think  you  then  the  undebased  soul 
Can  calmly  give  itself  to  sleep, — to  rest  ? 

6.  No  !  in  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  night. 

It  soars  from  earth, — it  dwells  in  angels'  homes, — 
It  hears  the  burning  song, — the  glowing  chant, 
That  fills  the  sky-girt  vaults  of  heaven  with  joy  ! 
It  pants,  it  sighs,  to  wing  its  flight  from  earth. 
To  join  the  heavenly  choirs,  and  be  with  God. 

6.  And  it  is  joy  to  muse  the  written  page. 

Whereon  are  stamped  the  gushings  of  the  soul 
Of  genius ; — where,  in  never-dying  light, 
It  glows  and  flashes  as  the  lightning's  glare ; 
Or  where  it  burns  with  ray  more  mild, — more  sure, 
And  wins  the  soul,  that  half  would  turn  away 
From  its  more  brilliant  flashings.     These  are  hours 
Of  holy  joy, — of  bliss  so  pure,  that  earth 
May  hardly  claim  it.     Let  his  lamp  grow  dim, 
And  flicker  to  extinction ;  let  his  cheek 
Be  pale  as  sculptured  marble, — and  his  eye 
Lose  its  bright  luster, — till  his  shrouded  frame 
Is  laid  in  dust.     Himself  can  never  die  ! 

'J.  His  years^  'tis  true,  are  few, — his  life  is  long ; 
For  he  has  gathered  many  a  precious  gem ; 
Enraptured,  he  has  dwelt  where  master  minds 
Have  poured  their  own  deep  musings, — and  his  heart 
Has  glowed  with  love  to  Him  who  framed  us  thus, — ■ 
Who  placed  within  this  worthless  tegument 

12 


266  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

The  spark  of  pure  Divinity,  which  shines 
With  light  unceasing. 
8.  Yes ;  his  life  is  long, — 

Long  to  the  dull  and  loathsome  epicure's, — 
Long  to  the  slothful  man's — the  groveling  herds 
Who  scarcely  know  they  have  a  soul  within, — 
Long  to  all  those  who,  creeping  on  to  death, 
Meet  in  the  grave,  the  earth-worm's  banquet-hall, — 
And  leave  behind  no  monuments  for  good. 


I 


<>  ♦ »' 


LESSON  XCY* 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  It  ia  generally  supposed  that  the  cities 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  the  destruction  of  which  is  mentioned  in  the  19th 
Chapter  of  Genesis,  were  situated  where  is  now  the  Dead  Sea. 

2.  Ti'  BER  is  the  river  of  Italy,  on  whose  banks  the  city  of  Rome  is  situ- 
ated. Eu  Ro'  TAS  is  a  river  of  Greece,  on  the  banks  of  which  stood  Sparta, 
the  great  capital  of  Laconia,  and  also  numerous  villages  and  towns.  Ce- 
pms'sDSis  the  name  of  three  rivers  of  Greece,  on  the  banks  of  one  of  which 
Athens  is  situated.   This  is  doubtless  the  one,  to  which  reference  is  here  had. 

3.  Enntti  (en  wa)  is  a  term  denoting  lassitude,  gloominess. 

YALLEY   OF  THE  JORDAN   AND   DEAD   SEA. 

From  the  French  of  Chateaubriand. 

1.  Conceive  two  long  chains  of  mountains  running  parallel 
from  north  to  south,  without  projections,  without  recesses,  with- 
out vegetation.  The  valley  which  lies  between  these  mount- 
ains, resembles  the  bottom  of  a  sea,  from  which  the  waves 
have  long  ago  withdrawn, — banks  of  gravel,  a  dried  bottom, 
rocks  covered  with  salt,  deserts  of  moving  sand,  here  and 
there  stunted  arbutus  shrubs  grow  with  difBculty  on  that  arid 
soil ;  their  leaves  are  covered  with  the  salt  which  had  nourished 
their  roots,  while  their  bark  has  the  scent  and  taste  of  smoke. 

2.  Instead  of  villages,  nothing  but  the  ruins  of  towers  is 
to  be  seen.  Through  the  midst  of  the  valley  flows  a  discol- 
ored stream  which  seems  to  drag  its  lazy  course  unwillingly 
toward  the  lake.  Its  course  is  not  to  be  discerned  by  the  wa- 
ter, but  by  the  willows  and  shrubs  which  skirt  its  banks,  and  in 
which  the  Arab  conceals  himself  to  way-lay  and  rob  the  pilgrim. 


FIFTH      BOOK.  267 

3.  Such  are  the  places  rendered  famous  by  the  maledictions 
of  Heaven.  That  river  is  the  Jordan.  That  lake  is  the  Dead 
Sea.  It  appears  with  a  serene  surface ;  but  the  guilty  cities* 
which  are  embosomed  in  its  waves,  have  poisoned  its  waters. 
Its  solitary  abysses  can  sustain  the  life  of  no  living  thing  ;  no 
vessel  ever  plowed  its  bosom ;  its  shores  are  without  trees, 
without  birds,  without  verdure;  its  water,  frightfully  salt,  is 
so  heavy  that  the  highest  wind  can  hardly  raise  it. 

4.  I  had  seen  the  great  rivers  of  America,  with  the  pleasure 
which  is  inspired  by  the  magnificent  works  of  nature.  I  had 
hailed  the  Tiber"  with  ardor,  and  sought  the  Eurotas  and  Ce- 
phissus ;"  but  on  none  of  these  occasions  did  I  experience  the 
intense  emotion  which  I  felt  on  approaching  the  Jordan. 
Not  only  did  that  river  recall  the  earliest  antiquity,  and  a 
name  rendered  immortal  in  the  finest  poetry,  but  its  banks 
were  the  theater  of  the  miracles  of  our  religion.  Judea  is  the 
only  country  which  recalls  the  earliest  recollections  of  man,  and 
our  first  impressions  of  Heaven ;  and  thence  arises  a  mixture 
of  feeling  in  the  mind,  which  no  other  part  of  the  world  can 
produce. 

5.  In  traveling  in  Judea,  an  extreme  feeling  of  ennui'  fre- 
quently seizes  the  mind,  fi-om  the  sterile  and  monotonous  as- 
pect of  the  objects  which  are  presented  to  the  eye.  But,  when 
journeying  on  through  these  pathless  deserts,  the  expanse 
seems  to  spread  out  to  infinity  before  you,  the  ennui  disap- 
pears, and  a  secret  terror  is  experienced,  which,  far  from  low- 
ering the  soul,  elevates  and  inflames  the  genius.  These  extra- 
ordinary scenes  reveal  the  land,  desolated  by  miracles ;  that 
burning  sun,  the  impetuous  eagle,  the  barren  fig-tree,  all  the 
poetry,  all  the  pictures  of  Scripture,  are  there. 

6.  Every  name  recalls  a  mystery ;  every  grotto  speaks  of 
the  life  to  come ;  every  peak  re-echoes  the  voice  of  a  prophet. 
God  himself  has  spoken  on  these  shores ; — these  dried-up  tor- 
rents, these  cleft  rocks,  these  tombs  rent  asunder,  attest  His 
resistless  hand.  The  desert  appears  mute  with  terror ;  and 
you  feel  that  it  has  never  ventured  to  break  silence  since  it 
heard  the  voice  of  the  Eternal. 


268  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON  XCYU 
ELIJAH'S   INTERVIEW.* 

CAMPBELI* 

1.  On  Horeb's  rock  the  propliet  stood,— 

The  Lord  before  him  passed  ; 
A  hurricane  in  angry  mood 

Swept  by  him  strong  and  fast ; 
The  forest  fell  before  its  force, 
The  rocks  were  shivered  in  its  course, 

God  was  not  in  the  blast ; 
'Twas  but  the  whirlwind  of  His  breath, 
Announcing  danger,  wreck,  and  death. 

2.  It  ceased.     The  air  grew  mute, — a  cloud 

Came,  muffling  up  the  sun  ; 
When,  through  the  mountain,  deep  and  loud, 
(<:^)      An  earthquake  thundered  on  ; 
The  frighted  eagle  sprang  in  air, 
The  wolf  ran  howling  from  his  lair  ; 

God  was  not  in  the  storm  ; — 
'Twas  but  the  rolling  of  His  car,— 
The  trampling  of  His  steeds  from  far. 

3.  'Twas  still  again, — and  Nature  stood 

And  calmed  her  ruffled  frame  ; 
(=)  When,  swift  from  heaven,  a  fiery  flood 

To  earth  devouring  came  ; 
Down  to  the  depth  the  ocean  fled, — - 
The  sickening  sun  looked  wan  and  dead, 

Yet  God  filled  not  the  flame  ; — 
'Twas  but  the  terror  of  His  eye, 
That  lightened  through  the  troubled  sky. 

4.  (p.)  At  last  a  voice,  all  still  and  small. 

Rose  sweetly  on  the  ear  ; 
Yet  rose  so  shrill  and  clear  that  all 
In  Heaven  and  earth  might  hear. 

*  Consult  the  19th  Chapter  of  1  Kings,  11th  and  12th  verses. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  269 

It  spoke  of  peace,  it  spoke  of  love, 
It  spoke  as  angels  speak  above, 
And  God  himself  was  there  ! 
For  O,  it  was  a  Father's  voice 
That  bade  the  trembling  heart  rejoice  ! 


LESSON   XCVIU 

Note. — John  Ad'  ams  andTnoM'AS  Jep'  fer  son  died  July  4th,  1826, 
the  anniversary  of  American  Independence.  Jefferson  was  the  framer  of 
tlie  Declaration  of  Independence,  and  John  Adams,  a  strenuous  advocate 
for  its  adoption  in  the  Continental  Congress.  They  both  had  been  Pres- 
idents of  the  United  States,  and,  though  they  differed  in  poUtics,  yet  they 
were  too  noble-minded  to  allow  political  differences  to  sever  their  friend- 
ship. They  maintained  a  friendly  intercourse  through  life,  and  both  took 
their  departure  from  earth  on  that  day,  rendered  memorable  by  their  deeds. 

EULOGY   ON   THE   LIYES   OF  ADAMS   AND   JEFFERSON. 

STORY. 

1.  We  have  just  passed  the  jubilee  of  our  independence, 
and  witnessed  the  prayers  and  gratitude  of  millions  ascending 
to  Heaven  for  our  public  and  private  blessings.  That  inde- 
pendence was  the  achievement,  not  of  faction  and  ignorance, 
but  of  hearts  as  pure,  and  minds  as  enlightened,  and  judg- 
ments as  sound,  as  ever  graced  the  annals  of  mankind.  Among 
the  leaders  were  statesmen  and  scholars,  as  well  as  heroes  and 
patriots.  We  have  followed  many  of  them  to  the  tomb^ 
blessed  with  the  honors  of  their  country.  We  have  been 
privileged  yet  more ;  we  have  lived  to  witness  an  almost  mi- 
raculous event  in  the  departure  of  two  great  authors  of  our 
independence,  on  that  memorable  and  blessed  day  of  jubilee. 

2.  I  may  not,  in  this  place,  presume  to  pronounce  the  fune- 
ral panegyric  of  these  extraordinary  men.  It  has  already 
been  done  by  some  of  the  master-spirits  of  our  country,  by 
men  worthy  of  the  task,  wofthy  as  Pericles  to  pronounce  the 
honors  of  the  Athenian  dead.  It  was  the  beautiful  saying  of 
the  Grecian  orator,  that  "  This  whole  earth  is  the  sepulcher  of 
illustrious  men.  Nor  is  it  the  inscription  on  the  columns  in 
their  native  soil  alone  that  shows  their  merit ;  but  the  memo- 


270  SANDERS'    NEW    SERIES. 

rial  of  them,  better  than  all  inscriptions,  in  every  foreign  na- 
tion, reposited  more  durably  in  universal  remembrance,  than 
on  their  own  tombs." 

3.  Such  is  the  lot  of  Adams  and  Jefferson.  They  have 
lived,  not  for  themselves,  but  for  their  country  ;  not  for  their 
country  alone,  but  for  the  world.  They  belong  to  history,  as 
furnishing  some  of  the  best  examples  of  disinterested  and  suc- 
cessful patriotism.  They  belong  to  posterity,  as  the  instruct- 
ors of  all  future  ages,  in  the  principles  of  rational  liberty,  and 
the  rights  of  the  people.  They  belong  to  us  of  the  present 
age,  by  their  glory,  by  their  virtues,  and  by  their  achieve- 
ments. These  are  memorials  which  can  never  perish.  They 
will  brighten  vrith  the  lapse  of  time,  and,  as  they  loom  on  the 
ocean  of  eternity,  will  seem  present  to  the  most  distant  gene- 
rations of  men. 

4.  That  voice  of  more  than  Roman  eloquence,  which  urged 
and  sustained  the  Declaration  of  Independence, — -that  voice, 
whose  first  and  whose  last  accents  were  for  his  country,  is,  in- 
deed, mute.  It  will  never  again  rise  in  defense  of  the  weak 
against  popular  excitement,  and  vindicate  the  majesty  of  law 
and  justice.  It  will  never  again  awaken  a  nation  to  arms  to 
assert  its  liberties.  It  will  never  again  instruct  the  public 
councils  by  its  wisdom.  It  will  never  again  utter  its  almost 
oracular  thoughts  in  philosophical  retirement.  It  will  never 
again  pour  out  its  strains  of  parental  affection,  and  in  the  do- 
mestic circle,  give  new  force  and  fervor  to  the  consolations  of 
religion. 

5.  The  hand,  too,  which  inscribed  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence, is,  indeed,  laid  low.  The  weary  head  reposes  on  its 
mother  earth.  The  mountain  winds  sweep  by  the  narrow 
tomb,  and  all  around  has  the  loneliness  of  desolation. 

6.  The  stranger  guest  may  no  longer  visit  that  hospitable 
home,  and  find  him  there,  whose  classical  taste  and  various 
conversation,  lent  a  charm  to  every  leisure  hour  ;  whose  bland 
manners  and  social  simplicity  made  every  welcome  doubly 
dear ;  whose  expansive  mind  commanded  the  range  of  almost 
every  art  and  science ;  whose  political  sagacity,  like  that  of 


FIFTH     BOOK.  271 

his  illustrious  coadjutor,  read  the  fate  and  interests  of  nations, 
as  with  a  second  sight,  and  scented  the  first  breath  of  tyranny 
in  the  passing  gale ;  whose  love  of  liberty,  like  his,  was  inflex- 
ible, universal,  supreme ;  whose  devotion  to  their  common 
country,  like  his,  never  faltered  in  the  worst,  and  never  wearied 
in  the  best  of  times ;  whose  public  services  ended  but  with 
life,  carrying  the  long  line  of  their  illumination  over  sixty 
years;  whose  last  thoughts  exhibited  the  ruling  passion  of 
the  heart,  enthusiasm  in  the  cause  of  education ;  wbcie  last 
breathing  committed  his  soul  to  God,  and  his  offspring  to  his 
country. 

7.  Yes;  Adams  and  Jefferson  are  gone  from  us  forever, — • 
gone,  as  a  sunbeam  to  revisit  its  native  skies, — gone,  as  this 
mortal  to  put  on  immortality.  Of  them,  of  each  of  them, 
every  American  may  exclaim, 

"  Ne'er  to  the  chambers,  where  the  mighty  rest, 
Since  their  foundation,  came  a  nobler  guest, 
Nor  e'er  was  to  the  bowers  of  bliss  conveyed 
A  fairer  spirit,  or  more  welcome  shade." 

8.  We  may  not  mourn  over  the  departure  of  such  men. 
We  should  rather  hail  it  as  a  kind  dispensation  of  Provi- 
dence to  affect  our  hearts  with  new  and  liveHer  gratitude. 
They  were  not  cut  off  in  the  blossom  of  their  days,  while  yet 
the  vigor  of  manhood  flushed  their  cheeks,  and  the  harvest 
of  glory  was  ungathered.  They  fell,  not  as  martyrs  fall,  seeing 
only  in  dim  perspective,  the  salvation  of  their  country. 

9.  They  lived  to  enjoy  the  blessings  earned  by  their  labors, 
and  to  realize  all  which  their  fondest  hopes  had  desired.  The 
infirmities  of  life  stole  slowly  and  silently  upon  them,  leaving 
still  behind  a  cheerful  serenity  of  mind.  In  peace,  in  the 
bosom  of  domestic  affection,  in  the  hallowed  reverence  of  their 
countrymen,  in  the  full  possession  of  their  faculties,  they  wore 
out  the  last  remains  of  life,  without  a  fear  to  cloud,  with 
scarcely  a  sorrow  to  disturb  its  close. 

10.  The  joyful  day  of  our  jubilee  came  over  them  with  its 
refreshing  influence.  To  them,  indeed,  it  was  "  a  great  and 
good  day."     The  morning  sun  shone  with  softened  luster  on 


272  SANDEKS'    NEW      SERIES. 

their  closing  eyes.  Its  evening  beams  played  lightly  on  their 
brows,  calm  in  all  the  dignity  of  death.  Their  spirits  escaped 
from  these  frail  tenements  without  a  struggle  or  a  groan. 
Their  death  was  gentle  as  an  infant's  sleep.  It  was  a  long,  lin- 
gering twilight,  melting  into  the  softest  shade. 

11.  Fortunate  men,  so  to  have  lived,  and  so  to  have  died. 
Fortunate,  to  have  gone,  hand  in  hand,  in  the  deeds  of  the 
Revolution.  Fortunate,  in  the  generous  rivalry  of  middle  life. 
Fortunate,  in  deserving  and  receiving  the  highest  honors  of 
their  country.  Fortunate,  in  old  age  to  have  rekindled  their 
friendship  with  a  holier  flame.  Fortunate,  to  have  passed 
through  the  dark  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  together.  For- 
tunate, to  be  indissolubly  united  in  the  memory  and  affections 
of  their  countrymen.  Fortunate,  above  all,  in  an  immortality 
of  virtuous  fame,  on  which  history  may  with  severe  simplicity 
write  the  dying  encomium  of  Pericles, — "  No  citizen,  through 
their  means,  ever  put  on  mourning." 


12.  Adams  and  Jefferson  are  no  more.  As  human  beings, 
indeed,  they  are  no  more.  They  are  no  more,  as  in  17*76, 
bold  and  fearless  advocates  of  independence ;  no  more,  as  on 
subsequent  periods,  the  head  of  the  government ;  no  more,  as 
we  have  recently  seen  them,  aged  and  venerable  objects  of  ad- 
miration and  regard.  They  are  no  more.  They  are  dead. 
But  how  little  is  there  of  the  great  and  good,  which  can  die ! 
To  their  country  they  yet  live,  and  live  forever. 

13.  They  live  in  all  that  perpetuates  the  remembrance  of 
men  on  earth,  in  the  recorded  proofs  of  their  own  great 
actions,  in  the  offspring  of  their  intellect,  in  the  deep  engraved 
lines  of  public  gratitude,  and  in  the  respect  and  homage  of 
mankind.  They  live  in  their  example ;  and  they  live,  em- 
phatically, and  will  live  in  the  influence  which  their  lives  and 
efforts,  their  principles  and  opinions,  now  exercise,  and  will 
continue  to  exercise,  on  the  affairs  of  men,  not  only  in  their 
own  country,  but  throughout  the  civilized  world. 

14.  A  superior  and  commanding  intellect,  a  truly  great  man, 
when  Heaven  vouchsafes  so  rare  a  gift,  is  not  a  temporary  flame^ 


FIFTH     BOOK.  273 

burning  bright  for  awbile,  and  then  expiring,  giving  place  to 
returning  darkness.  It  is  rather  a  spark  of  fervent  heat,  as 
well  as  radiant  light,  with  power  to  enkindle  the  common  mass 
of  human  mind ;  so  that  when  it  glimmers,  in  its  own  decay, 
and  finally  goes  out  in  death,  no  night  follows,  but  it  leaves 
the  world  all  light,  all  on  fire,  from  the  potent  contact  of  its 
own  spirit. 

15.  Bacon  died;  but  the  human  understanding,  roused  by 
the  touch  of  his  miraculous  wand  to  a  perception  of  the  true 
philosophy,  and  the  just  mode  of  inquiring  after  truth,  has 
kept  on  its  course  successfully  and  gloriously.  Newton  died  ; 
yet  the  courses  of  the  spheres  are  still  known,  and  they  yet 
move  on  in  the  orbits  which  he  saw,  and  described  for  them  in 
the  infinity  of  space. 

16.  These  suns,  as  they  rose  slowly  and  steadily,  amidst 
clouds  and  storms,  in  their  ascendant,  so  they  have  not  rushed 
from  their  meridian  to  sink  suddenly  in  the  west.  Like  the 
mildness,  the  serenity,  the  continuing  benignity  of  a  summer's 
day,  they  have  gone  down  with  slow-descending,  grateful, 
long-lingering  light ;  and  now  that  they  are  beyond  the  visible 
margin  of  the  world,  good  omens  cheer  us  from  "the  bright 
track  of  their  fiery  car  !" — Webster. 


LESSON  xcvnu 

THE  GRAY  FOREST  EAGLE. 

A.  B.  STBEET. 

1.  With  storm -daring  pinion,  and  sun-gazing  eye, 
The  Gray  Forest  Eagle  is  king  of  the  sky ! 
Oh,  little  he  loves  the  green  valley  of  flowers, 

Where  sunshine  and  song  cheer  the  bright  summer  hour^ 
But  the  dark  gloomy  gorge,  where  down  plunges  the  foam 
Of  the  fierce,  rocky  torrent,  he  claims  as  his  home  ; 
There  he  blends  his  keen  shriek  with  the  roar  of  the  flood, 
And  the  many-voiced  sounds  of  the  blast-smitten  wood. 

2.  A  fitful  red  glaring,  a  low,  rumbling  jar. 
Proclaim  the  Storm-Demon  yet  raging  afar; 


274  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

The  black  cloud  strides  upward,  the  lightning  more  red, 
And  the  roll  of  the  thunder,  more  deep  and  more  dread ', 
The  Gray  Forest  Eagle,  where,  where  has  he  sped  ? 
Does  he  shrink  to  his  eyry,  and  shiver  with  dread  ? 
Does  the  glare  blind  his  eyes  ?     Has  the  terrible  blast 
On  the  wing  of  the  Sky -King  a  fear-fetter  cast  ? 

3.  0,  no  ;  the  brave  Eagle  !  he  thinks  not  of  fright ; 
The  wrath  of  the  tempest  but  rouses  delight ; 

To  the  flash  of  the  lightning  his  eye  casts  a  gleam, 
To  the  shriek  of  the  wild  blast  he  echoes  his  scream ; 
And  with  front,  like  a  warrior  that  speeds  to  the  fray, 
And  a  clapping  of  pinions,  he's  up  and  away  1 
Away,  0  away,  soars  the  fearless  and  free ! 
What  recks  he  the  sky's  strife  ? — its  monarch  is  he ! 
The  lightning  darts  round  him, — undaunted  his  sight; 
The  blast  sweeps  against  him, — unwavered  his  flight ; 
High  upward,  still  upward  he  wheels,  till  his  form 
Is  lost  in  the  dark  scowling  gloom  of  the  storm. 

4.  The  tempest  glides  o'er  with  its  terrible  train, 
And  the  splendor  of  sunshine  is  glowing  again  ; 
And,  full  on  the  form  of  the  tempest  in  flight, 
The  rainbow's  magnificence  gladdens  the  sight ! 
The  Gray  Forest  Eagle  !  O,  where  is  he  now, 

While  the  sky  wears  the  smile  of  its  God  on  its  brow  ? 
There's  a  dark,  floating  spot  by  yon  cloud's  pearly  wreath,- 
With  the  speed  of  the  arrow  'tis  shootmg  beneath ; 
Down,  nearer,  and  nearer,  it  draws  to  the  gaze. 
Now  over  the  rainbow,  now  blent  with  its  blaze ; 
'Tis  the  Eagle, — the  Gray  Forest  Eagle  ! — once  more 
He  sweeps  to  his  eyry, — his  journey  is  o'er  ! 

A,  Time  whirls  round  his  circle,  his  years  roll  away. 
But  the  Gray  Forest  Eagle  minds  little  his  sway ; 
The  child  spurns  its  buds  for  youth's  thorn-hidden  bloom, 
Seeks  manhood's  bright  phantoms,  finds  age  and  a  tomb ; 
But  the  Eagle's  eye  dims  not,  his  wing  is  unbowed. 
Still  drinks  he  the  sunshine,  still  scales  he  the  cloud. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  275 

6.  An  emblem  of  Freedom,  stern,  hauglity,  and  high, 
Is  the  Gray  Forest  Eagle,  that  king  of  the  sky  ! 
When  his  shadows  steal  black  o'er  the  empires  of  kings, 
Deep  terror, — deep,  heart-shaking  terror, — he  brings  ; 
Where  wicked  oppression  is  armed  for  the  weak, 
There  rustles  his  pinion,  there  echoes  his  shriek ; 
His  eye  flames  with  vengeance,  he  sweeps  on  his  way, 
And  his  talons  are  bathed  in  the  blood  of  his  prey. 

Y.  0,  that  Eagle  of  Freedom !  when  cloud  upon  cloud 
Swathed  the  sky  of  my  own  native  land  with  a  shroud. 
When  lightnings  gleamed  fiercely,  and  thunder-bolts  rung, 
How  proud  to  the  tempest  those  pinions  were  flung  ! 
Though  the  wild  blast  of  battle  rushed  fierce  through  the  air 
With  darkness  and  dread,  still  the  Eagle  was  there; 
Unquailing,  still  speeding,  his  swift  flight  was  on, 
Till  the  rainbow  of  Peace  crownea  the  victory  won. 

8.  O,  that  Eagle  of  Freedom  !  age  dims  not  his  eye, 
He  has  seen  earth's  mortality  spring,  bloom,  and  die ! 
He  has  seen  the  strong  nations  rise,  flourish,  and  fall ; 
He  mocks  at  time's  changes,  he  triumphs  o'er  all ; 
He  has  seen  our  own  land  with  wild  forests  o'erspread ; 
He  sees  it  with  sunshine  and  joy  on  its  head  ; 
And  his  presence  will  bless  this  his  own  chosen  clime, 
Till  the  Archangel's  fiat  is  set  upon  Time. 


LESSON  XCIX* 

INSIGNIFICANCE    OF    THE    EARTH. 

CHALMEE5. 

1.  Though  the  earth  were  to  be  burned  up,  though  the 
trumpet  of  its  dissolution  were  sounded,  though  yon  sky  were 
to  pass  away  as  a  scroll,  and  every  visible  glory  which  the 
finger  of  the  Divinity  has  inscribed  upon  it,  were  extinguished 
forever, — an  event  so  awful  to  us,  and  to  every  world  in  our 
vicinity,  by  which  so  many  suns  would  be  extinguished,  and 
BO  many  varied  scenes  of  life  and  population  would  rush  into 


276  SANDERS'     KEW     SERIES. 

forgetful ness, — what  is  it  in  the  high  scale  of  the  Amighty's 
workmanship?  A  mere  shred  which,  though  scattered  into 
nothing,  would  leave  the  universe  of  God  one  entire  scene  of 
greatness  and  majesty. 

2.  Though  the  earth  and  the  heavens  were  to  disappear, 
there  are  other  worlds  which  roll  afar ;  the  light  of  other 
suns  shines  upon  them ;  and  the  sky  which  mantles  them,  is 
garnished  with  other  stars.  Is  it  presumption  to  say  that  the 
moral  world  extends  to  these  distant  and  unknown  regions  ? 
that  the  praises  of  God  are  there  lifted  up,  and  his  goodness 
rejoiced  in  ?  that  there  piety  has  its  temples  and  its  offerings  ? 
and  the  richness  of  the  Divine  attributes,  is  there  felt  and  ad- 
mired by  intelligent  worshipers  ? 

3.  The  universe  at  large  would  suffer  as  little  in  its  splen- 
dor and  variety  by  the  destruction  of  our  planet,  as  the  ver- 
dure and  sublime  magnitude  of  a  forest,  would  suffer  by  the 
fall  of  a  single  leaf.  The  leaf  quivers  on  the  branch  which 
supports  it.  It  lies  at  the  mercy  of  the  slightest  accident. 
A  breath  of  wind  tears  it  from  its  stem,  and  it  lights  on  the 
stream  of  water  which  passes  underneath.  In  a  moment  of 
time  the  life,  with  which  we  know  by  the  microscope  it  teems, 
is  extinguished  ,  and  an  occurrence  so  insignificant  in  the  eye 
of  man,  and  on  the  scale  of  his  observation,  carries  in  it,  to 
the  myriads  which  people  this  little  leaf,  an  event  as  terrible 
and  as  decisive  as  the  destruction  of  a  world. 

4.  Now,  on  the  grand  scale  of  the  universe,  we,  the  occu- 
piers of  this  ball  which  performs  its  little  round  among  the 
suns  and  the  systems  that  astronomy  has  unfolded, — we  may 
feel  the  same  littleness  and  the  same  insecurity.  We  differ 
from  the  leaf  only  in  this  circumstance,  that  it  would  require 
the  operations  of  greater  elements  to  destroy  us.  But  these 
elements  exist.  The  fire  which  rages  within  may  lift  its  de- 
vouring energy  to  the  surface  of  our  planet,  and  transform  it 
into  one  wide  and  wasting  volcano.  The  sudden  formation  of 
elastic  matter  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  may  explode  it  into 
fragments. 

5.  The  exhalation  of  noxious  air  from  below,  may  impart  a 


FIFTH    BOOK.  277 

virulence  to  the  air  that  is  around  us ;  it  may  aflfect  the  deli- 
cate proportions  of  its  ingredients  ;  and  the  whole  of  animated 
nature  may  wither  and  die  under  the  malignity  of  a  tainted 
atmosphere.  A  blazing  comet  may  cross  this  fated  planet  in 
its  orbit,  and  realize  all  the  terrors  which  superstition  has  con- 
ceived of  it.  We  can  not  anticipate  with  precision  the  conse- 
quences of  an  event  which  every  astronomer  must  know  to  lie 
within  the  limits  of  chance  and  possibihty.  It  may  hurry  our 
globe  toward  the  sun,  or  drag  it  to  the  outer  regions  of  the 
planetary  system,  or  give  it  a  new  axis  of  revolution ;  and  the 
effect  which  I  shall  simply  announce  without  explainino-  it, 
would  be  to  change  the  place  of  the  ocean,  and  bring  another 
mighty  flood  upon  our  islands  and  continents. 

6.  These  are  changes  which  may  happen  in  a  single  instant 
of  time,  and  against  w^hich  nothing  known  in  the  present  sys- 
tem of  things  provides  us  with  any  security.  They  might  not 
annihilate  the  earth,  but  they  would  unpeople  it ;  and  we  who 
tread  its  surface  with  such  firm  and  assured  footsteps,  are  at 
the  mercy  of  devouring  elements,  which,  if  let  loose  upon  us 
by  the  hand  of  the  Almighty,  would  spread  solitude,  and 
silence,  and  death  over  the  dominions,  of  the  world. 

7.  Now,  it  is  this  littleness  and  this  insecurity  which  make 
the  protection  of  the  Almighty  so  dear  to  us,  and  bring,  with 
such  emphasis,  to  every  pious  bosom,  the  holy  lessons  of  hu- 
mility and  gratitude.  The  God  who  sitteth  above,  and  presides, 
in  high  authority,  over  all  worlds,  is  mindful  of  man ;  and, 
though,  at  this  moment.  His  energy  is  felt  in  the  remJtest 
provinces  of  creation,  we  may  feel  the  same  security  in  His 
providence,  as  if  we  were  the  objects  of  His  undivided  care. 

8.  It  is  not  for  us  to  bring  our  minds  up  to  this  mysterious 
agency.  But  such  is  the  incomprehensible  fact,  that  the  same 
Being,  whose  eye  is  abroad  over  the  whole  universe,  gives  veg- 
etation to  every  blade  of  grass,  and  motion  to  every  particle 
of  blood,  which  circulates  through  the  veins  of  the  minutest 
animal ;  that,  though  His  mind  takes  into  its  comprehensive 
grasp  immensity  and  all  its  wonders,  I  am  as  much  known  to 
Him,  as  if  I  were  the  single  object  of  His  attention ;  that  He 


278  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

marks  all  my  thoughts ;  and  that,  with  an  exercise  of  power, 
which  I  can  neither  describe  nor  comprehend,  the  same  God 
who  sits  in  the  highest  Heaven,  and  reigns  over  the  glories  of 
the  firmament,  is  at  my  right  hand  to  give  me  every  breath 
which  I  draw,  and  every  comfort  which  I  enjoy. 


>>  ♦ »« 


i 


LESSON   C* 

A  NAME  IN  THE  SAND. 

HANNAH  r.  GOULD. 

1.  Alone  I  walked  the  ocean  strand ; 
A  pearly  shell  was  in  my  hand  ; 

I  stooped  and  wrote  upon  the  sand 

Mj/  name, — the  year, — the  day. 
As  onward  from  the  spot  I  passed, 
One  ling'ring  look  behind  I  cast ; 
A  wave  came  rolling  high  and  fast, 

And  washed  my  lines  away. 

2.  And  so,  methought,  'twill  shortly  be 
"With  every  mark  on  earth  from  me ; 
A  wave  of  dark  oblivion's  sea, 

Will  sweep  across  the  place, 
Where  I  have  trod  the  sandy  shore 
Of  time,  and  been  to  me  no  more, — 
Of  me, — my  day, — the  name  I  bore, 

To  leave  no  track  nor  trace. 

8.  And  yet  with  Him  who  counts  the  sands, 
And  holds  the  waters  in  His  hands, 
I  know  a  lasting  record  stands, 

Inscribed  against  my  name, — 
Of  all  this  mortal  part  has  wrought ; 
Of  all  this  thinking  soul  has  thought ; 
And,  from  these  fleeting  moments  caught, 

For  glory  or  for  shame. 


I 


FIFTH     BOOK.  279 

LESSON  CU 

HAPPINESS. 

POLLOK. 

1.  God  gave  much  peace  on  earth, — much  holy  joy. 
Oped  fountains  of  perennial  spring,  whence  flowed 
Abundant  happiness  to  all  who  wished 

To  drink ; — not  perfect  bliss  ;   that  dwells  with  us, 
Beneath  the  eyelids  of  the  Eternal  One, 
And  sits  at  His  right  hand  alone ;  but  such, 
As  well  deserved  the  name, — abundant  joy ; 
Pleasures,  on  Avhich  the  memory  of  saints 
Of  highest  glory,  still  delights  to  dwell. 

2.  It  was,  we  own,  subject  of  much  debate, 
And  worthy  men  stood  on  opposing  sides. 
Whether  the  cup  of  mortal  life  had  more 

Of  sour  or  sweet.     Vain  question  this,  when  asked 
In  general  terms,  and  worthy  to  be  left 
Unsolved.     If  most  was  sour,  the  drinker,  not 
The  cup  we  blame.     Each,  in  himself,  the  means 
Possessed  to  turn  the  bitter  sweet, — the  sweet 
To  bitter.     Hence,  from  out  the  self-same  fount, 
One  nectar  drank ;  another,  draughts  of  gall. 

3.  Hence,  from  the  self-same  quarter  of  the  sky, 
One  saw  ten  thousand  angels  look  and  smile ; 
Another  saw  as  many  demons  frown  ; 

One  discord  heard,  where  harmony  inclined 

Another's  ear.     The  sweet  was  in  the  taste ; 

The  beauty  in  the  eye ;  and  in  the  ear, 

The  melody ;  and  in  the  man, — for  God 

Necessity  of  sinning  laid  on  none, — 

To  form  the  taste,  to  purify  the  eye. 

And  tune  the  ear,  that  all  he  tasted,  saw, 

Or  heard,  might  be  harmonious,  sweet,  and  fair. 

Who  would,  might  groan ;  who  would,  might  sing  for  joy. 

4.  Whether  in  crowds  or  solitudes,  in  streets 
Or  shady  groves,  dwelt  Happiness,  it  seems 


2b0  SANDEKS'      NEW      SERIES. 

In  vain  to  ask  ;  her  nature  makes  it  vain  ; 
Though  poets  much,  and  hermits  talked  and  sung 
Of  brooks,  aud  crystal  founts,  and  weeping  dews, 
And  myrtle  bowers,  and  solitary  vales. 
Delirious  babble  all !     Was  Happiness, 
Was  self-approving,  God-approving  joy, 
In  drops  of  dew,  however  pure  ? — in  gales, 
However  sweet  ? — in  wells,  however  clear  ? 
Or  groves,  however  thick  with  verdant  shades  ? 

5.  Times,  these  were  of  themselves  exceeding  fair ; 
How  fair  at  morn  and  even  !  worthy  the  walk 
Of  loftiest  mind ;  and  gave,  when  all  within 
Was  right,  a  feast  of  overflowing  bliss; 

But  were  the  occasion,  not  the  cause  of  joy. 
They  waked  the  native  fountains  of  the  soul, 
Which  slept  before,  and  stirred  the  holy  tides 
Of  feeling  up  ;  giving  the  heart  to  drink 
From  its  own  treasures,  draughts  of  perfect  sweet. 

6.  The  Christian  faith,  which  better  knew  the  heart 
Of  man, — him  thither  sent  for  peace  ;  and  thus 
Declared  : — "  Who  finds  it,  let  him  find  it  there ; 
W^ho  finds  it  not,  forever  let  him  seek 

In  vain, — 'tis  God's  most  holy,  changeless  will." 

T.  True  Happiness  had  no  localities ; 
No  tones  provincial ;  no  peculiar  garb. 
Where  duty  went,  she  went ;  with  justice  went ; 
And  went  with  meekness,  charity,  and  love. 
Where'er  a  tear  was  dried ;  a  wounded  heart 
Bound  up  ;  a  bruised  spirit  with  the  dew 
Of  sympathy  anointed  ;  or  a  pang 
Of  honest  suffering  soothed  ;  or  injujy 
Repeated  oft,  as  oft  by  love  forgiven. 

8.  Where'er  an  evil  passion  was  subdued. 
Or  virtue's  feeble  embers  fanned  ;  where'er 
A  sin  was  heartily  abjured,  and  left ; 
Where'er  a  pious  act  was  done,  or  breathed 


FIFTH     BOOK.  281 

A  pious  prayer,  or  wished  a  pious  wish, — 
There  Avas  a  high  and  holy  place, — a  spot 
Of  sacred  light,  a  most  religious  fane, 
"Where  happiness,  descending,  sat  and  smiled. 


LESSON   CIU 

ANALOGY   BETWEEN   THE   DECAY   OF   NATURE 
AND   OP   MAN. 

ALISOJT. 

1.  There  is  an  even-tide  in  the  day, — an  hour  when  the  sun 
retires,  and  the  shadows  fall,  and  when  nature  assumes  the 
appearances  of  soberness  and  silence.  It  is  an  hour,  from 
which  everywhere  the  thoughtless  fly,  as  peopled  only,  in  their 
imagination,  with  images  of  gloom ;  it  is  the  hour  which,  in 
every  age,  the  wise  have  loved,  as  bringing  with  it  sentiments 
and  affections  more  valuable  than  all  the  splendors  of  the  day. 

2.  Its  first  impression  is  to  still  all  the  turbulence  of  thought 
or  passion,  which  the  day  may  have  brought  forth.  We  fol- 
low, with  our  eye,  the  descending  sun, — we  listen  to  the  de- 
caying sounds  of  labor  and  of  toil,  and  when  all  the  fields  are 
silent  around  us,  we  feel  a  kindred  stillness  to  breathe  upon 
our  souls,  and  to  calm  them  from  the  agitations  of  society.  In 
the  day  we  are  living  with  men, — in  the  even-tide  we  begin  to 
live  with  nature. 

3.  It  is  an  hour  fitted  to  still,  but  with  gentle  hand,  the 
throb  of  every  unruly  passion,  and  the  ardor  of  every  impure 
desire ;  and,  while  it  vails,  for  a  time,  the  world  that  misleads 
us,  it  awakens  in  our  hearts  those  legitimate  affections  which 
that  heat  of  day  may  have  dissolved.  In  the  moments  when 
earth  is  overshadowed.  Heaven  opens  to  our  eyes  the  radiance 
of  a  sublimer  being. 

4.  Our  hearts  follow  the  successive  splendors  of  the  scene, 
and,  while  we  forget,  for  a  time,  the  obscurity  of  earthly  con- 
cerns, we  feel  that  there  are  "  yet  greater  things  than  these," 
and  that  we  "  have  a  Father  who  dvvelleth  in  the  heavens,  and 
who  yet  deigneth  to  consider  the  things  that  are  upon  earth." 


282  SANDEKS'     NEW     SERIES. 

5.  There  is  an  "  even-tide"  in  the  year, — a  season  when  the 
sun  withdraws  his  propitious  light, — when  the  winds  arise, 
and  the  leaves  fall,  and  nature  around  us  seems  to  sink  into 
decay.  It  is  a  season  which  tends  to  wean  us  from  the  pas- 
sions of  the  world.  A  few  days  ago,  and  the  summer  of  the 
year  was  grateful,  and  every  element  was  filled  with  life,  and 
the  sun  in  heaven  seemed  to  glory  in  his  ascendant.  He  is 
now  enfeebled  in  his  power ;  the  desert  no  more  "  blossoms 
like  the  rose ;"  the  song  of  joy  is  no  more  heard  among  the 
branches ;  and  the  earth  is  strewed  with  that  foliage  which 
once  bespoke  the  magnificence  of  summer. 

6.  Whatever  may  be  the  passions  which  society  has  awa- 
kened, we  pause  amid  this  apparent  desolation  of  nature.  We  sit 
down  in  the  lodge  "  of  the  wayfaring  man  in  the  wilderness," 
and  we  feel  that  all  we  witness  is  the  emblem  of  our  own 
fate. — Such,  in  a  few  years,  will  be  our  own  condition.  The 
blossoms  of  our  spring,  the  pride  of  our  summer,  will  also 
fade  into  decay ;  and  the  pulse  that  now  beats  high  wUh 
virtuous  or  vicious  desire,  will  gradually  sink,  and  then  cease 
forever. 

7.  It  is  the  peculiar  character  of  the  melancholy  which  such 
seasons  excite,  that  it  is  general.  It  is  not  an  individual  re- 
monstrance. When  the  winds  of  autumn  sigh  around  us,  their 
voice  speaks  not  to  us  only ;  the  lesson  they  teach,  is  not  that 
we  alone  decay,  but  that  such,  also,  is  the  fate  of  all  the  genera- 
tions of  man. 

8.  In  such  a  sentiment,  there  is  a  kind  of  sublimity,  mingled 
with  its  melancholy ; — our  tears  fall,  but  they  fall  not  for  our- 
selves ; — and,  although  the  train  of  our  thoughts  may  have 
begun  with  the  selfishness  of  our  own  concerns,  we  feel  that, 
by  the  ministry  of  some  mysterious  power,  they  end  in  awa- 
kening our  concern  for  every  being  that  lives.  Yet  a  few  years, 
and  all  that  now  bless,  or  all  that  now  convulse  humanity,  will 
have  perished.  The  mightiest  pageantry  of  life  will  pass, — the 
loudest  notes  of  triumph  or  conquest  will  be  silent  in  the 
grave ;  the  wicked,  wherever  active,  "  will  cease  from  troub- 
ling, and  the  weary,"  wherever  suffering,  "  will  be  at  rest." 


FIFTH     BOOK.  283 

9.  There  is  an  "  even-tide"  in  human  life, — a  season  when 
the  eye  becomes  dim,  and  the  strength  decays, — when  the 
winter  of  age  begins  to  shed  upon  the  head  its  prophetic  snow. 
The  spring  and  summer  of  our  days  soon  pass  away,  and  with 
them,  not  only  the  joys  they  knew,  but  many  of  the  friends 
who  bestow  them.  In  the  retrospect  of  our  journey,  we  have 
seen  every  day  the  shades  of  the  evening  fall,  and  every  year 
the  clouds  of  winter  gather.  But  we  have,  also,  seen,  every 
succeeding  day,  the  morning  arise  in  its  brightness,  and,  in 
every  succeeding  year,  the  spring  return  to  renovate  the  winter 
of  nature. 

10.  It  is  thereby  we  may  understand  the  magnificent  lan- 
guage of  Heaven.  It  mingles  its  voice  with  that  of  revelation. 
It  summons  us,  in  those  hours  when  the  leaves  fall,  and  the 
winter  is  gathering,  to  that  evening  study  which  the  mercy  of 
Heaven  has  provided  in  the  book  of  salvation.  And,  while  the 
shadowy  valley  opens,  which  leads  to  the  abode  of  death,  it 
speaks  of  that  hand  which  can  comfort  and  can  save, — which 
can  conduct  to  those  "  green  pastures,  and  those  still  waters," 
where  there  is  an  eternal  spring  for  the  children  of  God. 


LESSOK   CUK 

RE-UNIOiSr    OF    FRIENDS. 

1.  Friend  after  friend  departs  ; 

Who  hath  not  lost  a  friend  ? 
There  is  no  union  here  of  hearts, 

That  finds  not  here  an  end  ; 
Were  this  frail  world  our  only  rest, 
Living  or  dying,  none  were  blessed. 

2.  Beyond  the  flight  of  Time, 

Beyond  this  vale  of  death, 
There  surely  is  some  blessed  clime 

Where  life  is  not  a  breath, 
Nor  life's  affections,  transient  fire. 
Whose  sparks  fly  upward  to  expire. 


MONTGOMEST. 


284  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

3.  There  is  a  world  above, 

Where  parting  is  unknown, — 
A  whole  eternity  of  love, 

Formed  for  the  good  alone  ; 
And  Faith  beholds  the  dying  here 
Translated  to  that  happier  sphere. 

4.  Thus  star  by  star  declines, 

Till  all  are  passed  away, — 
As  morning  high  and  higher  shines 

To  pure  and  perfect  day  ; 
Nor  sink  those  stars  in  empty  night, — 
They  hide  themselves  in  heaven's  own  light. 


LESSON   CIY4 
GOD,   THE   TRUE   OBJECT   OP   CONFIDENCE. 

GREENWOOD. 

1.  We  receive  such  repeated  intimations  of  decay  in  the 
world, — decline,  change,  and  loss,  follow  in  such  rapid  succes- 
sion, that  we  can  almost  catch  the  sound  of  universal  wast- 
ing, and  hear  the  work  of  desolation  going  on  busily  around 
us.  "  The  mountain  falling  coineth  to  naught,  and  the  rock 
is  removed  out  of  his  place.  The  waters  wear  the  stones,  the 
things  which  grow  out  of  the  dust  of  the  earth,  are  washed 
away,  and  the  hope  of  man  is  destroyed." 

2.  Conscious  of  our  own  instability,  we  look  about  for  some- 
thing, on  which  to  rest,  but  we  look  in  vain.  The  heavens  and 
the  earth  had  a  beginning,  and  they  will  have  an  end.  The 
face  of  the  world  is  changing  daily  and  hourly.  All  animated 
things  grow  old  and  die.  The  rocks  crumble, — the  trees  fall, 
— the  leaves  fade, — the  grass  withers.  The  clouds  are  flying, 
and  the  waters  are  flowing  away  from  us. 

3.  The  firmest  works  of  man,  too,  are  gradually  giving  way, 
— the  ivy  clings  to  the  moldering  tower, — the  brier  hangs  out 
from  the  shattered  window, — and  the  wall-flower  springs  from 
the  disjointed  stones.     In  the  spacious  domes  which  once  held 


FIFTH     BOOK.  285 

our  fathers,  the  serpent  hisses,  and  the  wild  bird  screams. 
The  halls  which  were  once  crowded  with  all  that  taste,  and 
science,  and  labor,  could  procure, — which  resounded  with  mel- 
ody, and  were  lighted  up  with  beauty, — are  buried  by  thei 
own  ruins, — mocked  by  their  own  desolation.  The  voice  of 
merriment  or  of  wailing,  the  steps  of  the  busy  or  the  idle, 
have  ceased  in  the  deserted  courts. 

4.  While  we  thus  walk  among  the  ruins  of  the  past,  a  sad 
feeling  of  insecurity  couies  over  us  ;  and  that  feeling  is  by  no 
means  diminished  when  we  arrive  at  home.  If  we  turn  to  our 
friends,  we  can  hardly  speak  to  them,  before  they  bid  us  fare- 
well. We  see  them  for  a  few  moments,  and  in  a  few  moments 
more,  their  countenances  are  changed,  and  they  are  sent  away. 
The  ties  which  bind  us  together,  are  never  too  close  to  be 
parted,  or  too  strong  to  be  broken.  We  gain  no  confidence, 
then,  no  feeling  of  security,  by  turning  to  our  contemporaries 
and  kindred.  We  know  that  the  forms  that  are  breathing 
around  us,  are  as  short-lived  and  fleeting  as  those  were,  which 
have  been  dust  for  centuries. 

5.  If  every  thing  which  comes  under  our  notice,  has  en- 
dured for  so  short  a  time,  and  in  so  short  a  time  will  be  no 
more,  we  can  not  say  that  we  receive  the  least  assurance  by 
thinking  on  ourselves.  When  a  few  more  friends  have  left,  a 
few  more  hopes  deceived,  and  a  few  more  changes  mocked  us, 
*'  we  shall  be  brought  to  the  grave,  and  shall  remain  in  the 
tomb.     The  clods  of  the  valley  shall  be  sweet  unto  us." 

6.  When  we  ourselves  have  gone,  even  our  memories  will 
not  stay  behind  us  long.  A  few  of  the  near  and  dear  will 
bear  our  likeness  in  their  bosoms,  till  they,  too,  have  arrived  at 
the  end  of  their  journey,  and  entered  the  dark  dwelling  of  un- 
consciousness. In  the  thoughts  of  others,  we  shall  live  only 
till  the  last  sound  of  the  bell  which  informs  them  of  our  de- 
parture, has  ceased  to  vibrate  in  their  ears. 

7.  A  stone,  perhaps,  may  tell  some  wanderer  where  we  lie, 
• — when  we  came  here, — when  we  went  away  ;  but  even  that 
will  soon  refuse  to  bear  us  record.  "  Time's  eft'acing  fingers" 
will  be  busy  on  its  surface,  and  will,  at  length,  wear  it  smooth. 


286  SANDEES'     NEW     SERIES. 

The  stone  itself  will  sink,  or  crumble ;  and  the  wanderer  of 
another  age  will  pass,  without  a  single  call  upon  his  sympathy, 
over  our  unheeded  graves. 

8.  Is  there  nothing  to  counteract  the  sinking  of  the  heart, 
which  must  be  the  effect  of  observations  like  these  ?  Is  there 
no  substance  among  all  these  shadows  ?  Can  no  support  be 
offered, — can  no  source  of  confidence  be  named  ?  Yes  !  there 
is  a  Being,  to  whom  we  can  look  with  a  perfect  conviction  of 
finding  that  security  which  nothing  about  us  can  give, — 
nothing  can  take  away.  To  this  Being  we  can  lift  up  our  souls, 
and  on  Ilim  we  may  rest  them,  exclaiming  in  the  language  of 
the  monarch  of  Israel, 

"  Before  the  mountains  were  brought  forth, 
Or  ever  Thou  hadst  formed  the  earth  and  the  world, 
Even  from  everlasting  to  everlasting,  Thou  art  G-gd." 

9.  "  Of  old  hast  Thou  laid  the  foundations  of  the  earth, 
And  the  heavens  are  the  works  of  Thy  hands. 
They  shall  perish,  but  Thou  shalt  endure ; 
Tea,  all  of  them  shall  wax  old  like  a  garment, 
As  a  vesture  shalt  Thou  change  them,  and  they  shall  be  changed; 
.     But  Thou  art  the  same,  and  Thy  years  shall  have  no  end." 

10.  Here,  then,  is  a  support  which  will  never  fail.  Here  is 
a  foundation  which  can  never  be  moved, — the  everlasting  Crea- 
tor of  countless  worlds, 

"  The  high  and  lofty  One  that  inhabiteth  eternity." 
When  we  have  looked  on  the  pleasures  of  life,  and  they  have 
vanished  away  ;  when  we  have  looked  on  the  works  of  nature, 
and  perceived  that  they  were  changing ;  on  the  monuments  of 
art,  and  seen  that  they  would  not  stand ;  on  our  friends,  and 
they  have  fled  while  we  were  gazing ;  on  ourselves,  and  felt 
that  we  were  as  fleeting  as  they ;  we  can  look  to  the  throne 
of  God.  Change  and  decay  have  never  reached  that.  The 
waves  of  an  eternity  have  been  rushing  past  it,  but  it  has  re- 
mained unshaken.  The  waves  of  another  eternity  are  rushing 
toward  it,  but  it  is  fixed,  and  can  never  be  disturbed. 

11.  We  shall  shortly  finish  our  allotted  time  on  earth,  and  a 
world  of  other  days  and  other  men  will  be  entirely  ignorant 


FIFTH     BOOK.  287 

that  once  we  lived.  But  the  same  unalterable  Being  will  still 
preside  over  the  universe,  through  all  its  changes,  and,  from 
His  remembrance  we  shall  never  be  blotted.  He  is  our  Father 
and  our  God  forever.  He  takes  us  from  earth  that  He  may- 
lead  us  to  Heaven, — that  He  may  refine  our  nature  from  all  its 
principles  of  corruption, — share  with  us  His  own  immortality, 
admit  us  to  His  everlasting  habitation,  and  crown  us  with  His 
eternity. 


LESSON    CV* 
HYMN  TO  THE  CREATOR. 

1.  Thoit  didst,  0  Mighty  God,  exist 

Ere  time  began  its  race ; 
Before  the  ample  elements 
Filled  up  the  voids  of  space  : 

2.  Before  the  ponderous  earthly  globe 

In  fluid  air  was  stayed  ; 
Before  the  ocean's  mighty  springs 
Their  liquid  stores  displayed. 

3.  Ere  men  adored,  or  angels  knew, 

Or  praised  Thy  wondrous  name  ; 
Thy  bliss,  0  sacred  Spring  of  Life, 
And  glory  were  the  same. 

4.  And,  when  the  pillars  of  the  world, 

With  sudden  ruin,  break ; 
And  all  this  vast  and  goodly  frame 
Sinks  in  the  mighty  wreck ; — 

5.  When  from  her  orb  the  moon  shall  start, 

Th'  astonished  sun  roll  back ; 
While  all  the  trembling,  starry  lamps 
Their  ancient  course  forsake ; — 

6.  Forever  permanent  and  fixed, 

From  agitation  free ; 
Unchanged,  in  everlasting  years, 
Shall  thy  existence  be. 


EOWB. 


288  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON  CYU 

Note. — The  following  excellent  advice  from  the  late  Chief  Justice  of 
the  United  States,  eminent  as  a  Scholar  and  Jurist,  though  addressed  to 
a  young  lawyer,  suggests  no  less  important  hints  to  all  writers  and 
speakers. 

ADVICE  TO  A  YOUNG  LAWYER. 

STORY. 

1.  Whene'er  you  speak,  remember,  every  cause 
Stands  not  on  eloquence,  but  stands  on  laws ; 
Pregnant  in  matter,  in  expression  brief. 

Let  every  sentence  stand  with  bold  relief ; 

On  trifling  points,  nor  time,  nor  talents  waste, — 

A  sad  oflfense  to  learning  and  to  taste  ; 

Nor  deal  with  pompous  phrase  ;  nor  e'er  suppose, 

Poetic  flights  belong  to  reasoning  prose. 

2.  Loose  declamation  may  deceive  the  crowd, 
And  seem  more  striking,  as  it  grows  more  loud  ; 
But  sober  sense  rejects  it  with  disdain, 

As  naught  but  empty  noise,  and  weak,  as  vain. 
The  froth  of  words,  the  school-boy's  vain  parade 
Of  books  and  cases, — all  his  stock  in  trade, — 
The  pert  conceits,  the  cunning  tricks,  and  play 
Of  low  attorneys,  strung  in  long  array, 
The  unseemly  jest,  the  petulant  reply, 
That  chatters  on,  and  cares  not  how,  or  why, 
Studious  avoid, — unworthy  themes  to  scan, — 
They  sink  the  Speaker,  and  disgrace  the  Man. 
Like  the  false  lights,  by  flying  shadows  cast. 
Scarce  seen,  when  present,  and  forgot,  when  past. 

3   Begin  with  dignity ;  expound  with  grace 

Each  ground  of  reasoning  in  its  time  and  place ; 
Let  order  reign  throughout ;  each  topic  touch, 
Nor  urge  its  power  too  little,  or  too  much. 
Give  each  strong  thought  its  most  attractive  view, 
In  diction  clear,  and  yet  severely  true. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  289 

And,  as  tlie  arguments  in  splendor  grow, 
Let  each  reflect  its  lio-ht  on  all  below. 
When  to  the  close  arrived,  make  no  delays 
By  petty  flourishes,  or  verbal  plays, 
But  sum  the  whole  in  one  deep,  solemn  strain, 
Like  a  strong  current  hastening  to  the  main. 


«« ♦  t> 


LESSON   CVIU 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Ge  ol'  o  gy  is  the  science  which  treats  of  the 
structure  of  the  earth,  and  of  the  substances  which  compose  it. 

2.  Lab'  o  ra  to  ey  is  a  house  or  place,  in  which  operations  or  experi- 
ments in  chemistry  or  other  sciences  are  performed. 

3.  Ve  su'  VI  us,  the  volcanic  mountain  near  Naples,  Italy,  is  almost 
constantly  in  a  state  of  eruption.  The  first  great  eruption  took  place  in 
the  year  79,  wliich  destroyed  the  cities  of  Poiipeii  and  Herculaneum. 

THE   DISCOVERIES   OF   GEOLOGY    CONSISTENT    WITH    THE 
SPIRIT  OF  RELIGION. 

EDWARD  EVERETT. 

1.  It  has  been  as  beautifully  as  truly  said,  that  the  "unde- 
vout  astronomer  is  mad."  The  same  remark  might,  with  equal 
force  and  justice,  be  applied  to  the  undevout  geologist.  Of  all 
the  absurdities  ever  started,  none  more  extravagant  can  be 
named,  than  that  the  grand  and  far-reaching  researches  and  dis- 
coveries of  geology,'  are  hostile  to  the  spirit  of  religion.  They 
seem  to  us,  on  the  very  contrary,  to  lead  the  inquirer,  step  by 
step,  into  the  more  immediate  presence  of  that  tremendous 
Power,  which  could  alone  produce,  and  can  alone  account  for 
the  primitive  convulsions  of  the  globe,  of  which  the  proofs 
are  graven  in  eternal  characters,  on  the  sides  of  its  bare  and 
cloud-piercing  mountains,  or  are  wrought  into  the  very  sub- 
stance of  the  strata  that  compose  its  surface,  and  which  are, 
also,  day  by  day,  and  hour  by  hour,  at  work,  to  feed  the  fires 
of  the  volcano,  to  pour  forth  its  molten  tides,  or  to  compound 
the  salubrious  elements  of  the  mineral  fountains  which  spring 
in  a  thousand  valleys. 

2.  In  gazing  at  the  starry  heavens,  all  glorious  as  they  are, 
we  sink  under  the   awe  of  their  magnitude,  the  mystery  of 

13 


290  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

their  secret  and  reciprocal  influences,  tlie  bewildering  concep- 
tions of  their  distances.  Sense  and  science  are  at  war.  The 
sparkling  gem  that  glitters  on  the  brow  of  night,  is  converted 
by  science  into  a  mighty  orb, — the  source  of  light  and  heat, 
the  center  of  attraction,  the  sun  of  a  system  like  our  own. 
The  beautiful  planet*  which  lingers  in  the  western  sky,  when 
the  sun  has  set,  or  heralds  the  approach  of  morning,  whose 
mild  and  lovely  beams  seem  to  shed  a  spirit  of  tranquillity,  not 
unmixed  with  sadness,  nor  far  removed  from  devotion,  into  the 
very  heart  of  him  who  wanders  forth  in  solitude  to  behold  it, 
— is,  in  the  contemplation  of  science,  a  cloud-wrapped  sphere, 
— a  world  of  rugged  mountains  and  stormy  deeps. 

3.  We  study,  we  reason,  we  calculate.  We  climb  the  giddy 
scaffold  of  induction  up  to  the  very  stars.  We  borrow  the 
wings  of  the  boldest  analysis,  and  flee  to  the  uppermost  parts 
of  the  creation,  and  then,  shutting  our  eyes  on  the  radiant  points 
that  twinkle  in  the  vault  of  night,  the  well- instructed  mind  sees 
opening  before  it,  in  mental  vision,  the  stupendous  mechanism 
of  the  heavens.  Its  planets  swell  into  worlds.  Its  crowded 
stars  recede,  expand,  become  central  suns,  and  we  hear  the  rush 
of  the  mighty  orbs  that  circle  around  them.  The  bands  of  Orion 
are  loosed,  and  the  sparkling  rays  which  cross  each  other  on 
his  belt,  are  resolved  into  floods  of  light,  streaming  frorn  system 
to  system,  across  the  illimitable  pathway  of  the  outer  heavens. 

4.  But,  in  the  province  of  geology,  there  are  some  subjects, 
in  which  the  senses  seem,  as  it  were,  led  up  into  the  laboratory' 
of  divine  power.  Let  a  man  fix  his  eyes  upon  one  of  the  mar- 
ble columns  in  the  Capitol  at  Washington.  He  sees  there  a 
condition  of  the  earth's  surface,  when  the  pebbles  of  every 
size,  and  form,  and  material,  which  compose  this  singular  spe- 
cies of  stone,  were  held  suspended  in  the  medium,  in  which* 
they  are  now  imbedded,  then  a  liquid  sea  of  marble,  which  has 
hardened  into  the  solid,  lustrous,  and  variegated  mass  before 
his  eye,  in  the  veiy  substance  of  which  he  beholds  the  record 
of  a  convulsion  of  the  globe.  Let  him  go  and  stand  upon  the 
sides  of  the   crater  of  Vesuvius,'  in  the  ordinary  state  of  its 

*  Venus  which  is  alternately  an  evening  and  morning  star. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  291 

eruptions,  and  contemplate  the  lazy  stream  of  molten  rocks 
that  oozes  quietly  at  his  feet,  incasing  the  surface  of  the  mount- 
ain, as  it  cools,  with  a  most  black  and  stygian  crust,  or  light- 
ing up  its  sides  at  night  with  streaks  of  lurid  fire. 

5.  Let  him  consider  the  volcanic  island  which  arose  a  few 
years  since  in  the  neighborhood  of  Malta,  spouting  flames  from 
the  depths  of  the  sea;  or,  accompany  one  of  our  navigators 
from  Nantucket  to  the  Antarctic  ocean,  who,  finding  the  cen» 
tcr  of  a  small  island,  to  which  he  was  in  the  habit  of  resort- 
ing, sunk  in  the  interval  of  two  of  his  voyages,  sailed  through 
an  opening  in  its  sides  where  the  ocean  had  found  its  way 
and  moored  his  ship  in  the  smoldering  crater  of  a  recently  ex- 
tinguished volcano.  Or,  let  him  survey  the  striking  phenom- 
enon which  has  led  us  to  this  train  of  remark,  a  mineral  fount- 
ain of  salubrious  qualities,  of  a  temperature  greatly  above  that 
of  the  surface  of  the  earth  in  the  refjion  where  it  is  found, 
compounded  of  numerous  ingredients  in  a  constant  proportion, 
and  known  to  have  been  flowing  from  its  secret  springs,  as  at 
the  present  day,  at  least  for  eight  hundred  years,  unchanged, 
unexhausted. 

6.  The  religious  sense  of  the  elder  world,  in  an  early  stage 
of  civilization,  placed  a  genius  or  a  divinity  by  the  side  of 
every  spring  that  gushed  from  the  rocks,  or  flowed  from  the 
bosom  of  the  earth.  Surely,  it  would  be  no  weakness  for  a 
thoughtful  man  who  should  resort,  for  the  renovation  of  a  was- 
ted frame,  to  one  of  those  salubrious  mineral  fountains,  if  ho 
drank  in  their  healing  waters,  as  a  gift  from  one  outstretched, 
though  invisible  hand,  of  an  everywhere  present  and  benignant 
Power. 


LESSON   CYIIU 

THE  ANDES. 


HINH. 

1.  Earth's  tow'ring  mountains  own  thee  king, — 
Thy  head  is  crowned  with  snow, 
Where  the  condor  rests  his  weary  wing, 
VVhen  icy  tempests  blow. 


292  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Tlie  Pacific's  trembling  waves, 

Are  cow'ring  at  thy  feet, 
"With  pallid  cheek,  like  that  of  slaves, 

"When  thy  stern  glance  they  meet. 

2.  Thou  ne'er  hast  stooped  to  hold  communa 

"With  lowly  things  of  earth  ; 
Alike  to  thee  is  flowery  June, 

Or  cold  December's  birth  ; 
Companionship  thou  hast  with  clouds, — 

They  hover  round  thy  head. 
And  wrap  thy  form  in  misty  shrouds, 

Like  winding-sheets,  the  dead  ! 

3.  Thy  head  is  soaring  in  the  sky. 

Thine  eye,  perchance,  doth  scan 
The  beauties  of  the  world  on  high, 

"Where  dwells  the  soul  of  man ; 
Perchance,  thou  seest  the  matchless  hand 

That  paints  the  sunset  skies ; 
The  wall  which  circles  that  bright  land, 

"Where  pleasure  never  dies. 


LESSON    CIX* 
ADDRESS  TO  THE  CONDOR. 

J.  "Wondrous,  majestic  bird  !  whose  mighty  wing 
Dwells  not  with  puny  warblers  of  the  spring, 

Nor  on  earth's  silent  breast, — 
Pow'rful  to  soar  in  strength  and  pride  on  high, 
And  sweep  the  azure  bosom  of  the  sky. 

To  choose  its  place  of  rest. 

2.  Proud  nursling  of  the  tempest !  where  repose 
Thy  pinions  at  the  daylight's  fading  close « 

In  what  far  clime  of  night. 
Dost  thou  in  silence,  breathless,  and  alone, 
"While  round  thee,  swells  of  life  no  kindred  tone, 
Suspend  thy  tireless  flight? 


MRS.   ELLET. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  293 

3.  The  mountain's  frozen  peak  is  lone  and  bare, 
No  foot  of  man  Iiath  ever  rested  there ; 

Yet  'tis  thy  sport  to  soar 
Far  o'er  its  frowning  summit, — and  the  plain 
Would  seek  to  win  thy  downward  wing  in  vain, 

Or  the  green  sea-beat  shore. 

4.  The  limits  of  thy  course  no  daring  eye 

Has  marked  ; — thy  glorious  path  of  light  on  high, 

Is  trackless  and  unknown*; 
The  gorgeous  sun  thy  quenchless  gaze  may  share ; 
Sole  tenant  of  his  boundless  realm  of  air, 

Thou  art,  with  him,  alone. 

5.  Imperial  wanderer  !  the  storms  that  shake 
Earth's  towers,  and  bid  her  rooted  mountains  quake, 

Are  never  felt  by  thee  ! 
Beyond  the  bolt, — beyond  the  lightning's  gleam, — 
Basking  forever  in  the  unclouded  beam, — 

Thy  home — immensity  ! 

6.  And  thus  the  soul,  with  upward  flight  like  thine, 

May  track  the  realms  where  Heaven's  pure  glories  shine, 

And  scorn  the  tempter's  powers, — 
May  soar  where  cloudless  beams  of  Heavenly  light, 
Pour  forth  their  full  effulgence  of  delight 

On  Heaven's  immortal  bowers. 


LESSON   CX* 
PERCEPTIONS    OF    THE    BEAUTIFUL. 

L.   H.   SIGOTIENET. 

1.  Nature,  studied  through  her  own  beauties,  not  only  hu 
manizes  and  delights  while  that  study  is  pursued,  but  extends 
an  influence  to  the  remoter  periods  of  life.  A  true  love  of 
nature,  acquired  in  childhood,  is  like  a  sunbeam  over  the  clouded 
parts  of  existence,  and  often  grows  more  vivid  with  the  lapse 
of  years. 

2.  I  have  seen  it  in  the  chamber  of  mortal  sickness,  allaying 


294  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

the  pangs  of  anguish,  by  the  magic  of  a  fresh  flower  laid  upon 
the  pillow,  by  the  song  of  the  joyous  bird,  by  the  waving  ol 
the  green  branches  at  the  open  window.  I  have  seen  it  min- 
gling even  with  delirium,  and  the  fevei'-dream,  soothing  with 
images  of  the  cherished  garden,  the  violet-covered  bank,  the 
falling  waters,  or  the  favorite  grove,  where  childhood  had 
played,  or  youth  wandered.  ^ 

3.  I  have  seen  it  brightening  the  almost  sightless  eye  of  the 
aged  man,  from  whose  side  those  who  began  the  race  of  life 
with  him,  had  fallen,  one  by  one.  Yet  he  finished  not  his 
journey  alone  ;  for  he  made  a  living  friend  of  every  unfolding 
plant,  of  every  growing  tree,  of  every  new  leaf  on  the  trellised* 
vine,  that  shadowed  his  summer  residence;  and,  in  the  majes- 
tic storm,  walking  forth  at  midnight,  he  heard  the  voice  of 
that  Almighty  Father,  to  whose  home  he  was  so  near. 

4.  "  0  Unseen  Spirit  of  Creation,  watching  over  all  things, 
the  desert  and  the  rock,  no  less  than  the  fresh  water,  bound- 
ing on,  like  a  hunter  on  his  path,  when  his  heart  is  in  his 
step, — or  the  valley,  girded  by  the  glad  woods,  and  living  with 
the  yellow  corn,  to  me,  though  sad  and  baffled,  thou  hast  min- 
istered, as  to  the  happiest  of  thy  children !  Thou  gavest  to 
me  a  music,  sweeter  than  that  of  palaces,  in  the  mountain 
wind ;  thou  badest  the  flowers,  and  the  common  grass  smile 
up  to  me,  as  children  in  the  face  of  their  father." 

5.  AVhy  has  a  Being  of  perfect  wisdom  implanted  within 
us  a  strong  perception  of  the  beautiful,  and  spread  the  means 
of  its  sustenance  with  an  unsparing  hand,  throughout  His  Uni- 
verse ?  Why,  from  the  depths  of  the  ocean,  where  the  pearl 
sleeps,  and  the  coral  effloresces,  to  the  fixed  star  on  its  burn- 
ing throne,  in  the  far,  blue  vault  of  heaven,  has  He  shed  abroad 
that  beauty  which  speaks  of  Him  ?  That  we  should  walk 
with  our  eyes  shut,  through  these  ever-changing  scenes  of 
loveliness  and  glory  ?  or,  that  we  should  neglect  to  be  taught, 
through  "  the  things  that  are  seen,"  the  power  and  goodness 
of  their  Invisible  Untiring  Benefactor  ? 


*  Trellised,  made  of  trellises,  or  cross-barred  work. 


FIFTH    BOOK.  295 

6.  "  All !  how  can  we  renounce  the  boundless  store 
Of  charms  which  Nature  to  her  votaries  yields  ? 
The  warbling  woodland,  the  resounding  shore, 
The  pomp  of  groves,  and  garniture  of  fields, 
All  that  the  genial  ray  of  morning  gilds, 

.    And  all  that  echoes  to  the  song  of  even. 

All  that  the  mountain's  sheltering  bosom  shields, 
And  all  the  dread  magnificence  of  heaven, 

Ah  !  how  can  we  renounce,  and  hope  to  be  forgiven  ?^^ 


LESSON   CXI* 

PLEASURE  DERIVED  FROM  THE  BEAUTY  OF 
NATURE. 

DWIQHT. 

1.  "Were  all  the  interesting  diversities  of  color  and  form  to 
disappear,  how  unsightly,  dull,  and  wearisome,  would  be  the 
aspect  of  the  world  !  The  pleasures,  conveyed  to  us  by  the 
endless  varieties,  with  which  these  sources  of  beauty  are  pre- 
sented to  the  eye,  are  so  much  things  of  course,  and  exist  so 
much  without  intermission,  that  we  scarcely  think  either  oi 
their  nature,  their  number,  or  the  great  proportion  which  they 
constitute  in  the  whole  mass  of  our  enjoyment. 

2.  But  were  an  inhabitant  of  this  country  to  be  removed 
from  its  delightful  scenery  to  the  midst  of  an  Arabian  desert, 
a  boundless  expanse  of  sand,  a  waste  spread  with  uniform 
desolation,  enlivened  by  the  murmur  of  no  stream,  and  cheered 
by  the  beauty  of  no  verdure,  although  he  might  live  in  a  pal- 
ace, and  riot  in  splendor  and  luxury,  he  would  find  life,  a  dull, 
wearisome,  melancholy  round  of  existence,  and,  amid  all  his 
gratifications,  would  sigh  for  the  hills  and  valleys  of  his  native 
i'and,  the  brooks  and  rivers,  the  living  luster  of  the  Spring, 
and  the  rich  glories  of  the  Autumn. 

3.  The  ever- varying  brilliancy  and  grandeur  of  the  land- 
scape, and  the  magnificence  of  the  sky,  sun,  moon,  and  stars, 
enter  more  extensively  into  the  enjoyment  of  mankind,  than 
we,  perhaps,  ever  think,  or  can  possibly  apprehend,  without 


296  SANDERS^     NEW     SERIES. 

frequent  and  extensive  investigation.  This  beauty  and  splen- 
dor of  the  objects  around  us,  it  is  ever  to  be  remembered,  are 
not  necessary  to  their  existence,  nor  to  what  we  commonly  in- 
tend by  their  usefulness.  It  is,  therefore,  to  be  regarded  as  a 
source  of  pleasure  gratuitously  superinduced  upon  the  general 
nature  of  the  objects  themselves,  and  in  this  light,  as  a  testis 
mony  of  the  Divine  goodness,  peculiarly  affecting. 


1.  There's  beauty  all  around  our  paths,  if  but  our  watchful  eyes 
Can  trace  it  'mid  familiar  things,  and  through  their  lowly  guise ; 

We  may  find  it  where  a  hedge-row  showers  its  blossoms  o'er  our  way 
Or  a  cottage  window  sparkles  forth  in  the  last  red  light  of  day. 

2.  We  may  find  it  in  the  winter  boughs,  as  they  cross  the  cold,  blue  sky, 
While  soft  on  icy  pool  and  stream  their  penciled  shadows  lie, 

When  we  look  upon  their  tracery,  by  the  fairy  frost-work  bound, 
Whence  the  flitting  redbreast  shakes  a  shower  of  crystals  to  the  ground. 

3.  Yes  I  beauty  dwells  in  all  our  paths, — but  sorrow,  too,  is  there ; 
How  oft  some  cloud  within  us  dims  the  bright,  still  summer  air  I 

But  we  feel  by  the  lights  and  clouds,  through  which  our  pathway  lies, 
By  the  beauty  and  the  grief  alike,  we  are  training  for  the  skies. 

IIKS.   HEMANS. 


<«  ■♦ 


LESSON  CXIU 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Mam'  moth  Cave  in  the  State  of  Kentucky, 
is  one  of  the  most  celebratad  and  extensive  caverns  in  the  world.  It  hag 
been  explored  to  the  distance  of  several  miles.  It  contains  large  streams, 
pools,  and  numerous  apartments.  The  following  poetry  purports  to  be 
written  in  this  cave. 

2.  Sttx,  from  which  the  word  Stygian  is  derived,  was  fabled  by  the 
ancients  to  be  a  river  in  the  infernal  regions,  over  which  the  shades  of 
the  dead  were  said  to  pass  to  the  Elysian  fields.  Hence,  stygian  signifies 
infernal. 

3.  Oor'  ri  dors  are  galleries,  or  long  aisles,  around  a  buUding,  leading  to 
chambers  distant  from  each  other. 

4.  The  Mas'  to  don  was  an  animal  of  an  enormous  size,  much  larger 
than  the  elephant.  It  is  now  extinct,  and  is  only  known  by  its  remains 
which  are  found  in  various  parts  of  America.     • 

5.  Be  leag'  uer  ed  means  surrounded,  as  by  an  army ;  besieged.  Chee- 
UBIM  is  the. plural  of  cherub,  a  celestial  spirit. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  297 

THE    MAMMOTH    CAVE. 

GEORGE  D.    PRENTICE. 

All  day,  as  day  is  reckoned  on  the  earth, 

I've  wandered  in  these  dim  and  awful  aisles, 

Shut  from  the  blue  and  breezy  dome  of  heaven ; 

While  thoughts,  wild,  drear,  and  shadowy,  have  swept 

Across  my  awe-struck  soul,  like  specters  o'er 

The  wizard's  magic  glass,  or  thunder-clouds 

O'er  the  blue  waters  of  the  deep.     And  now 

I'll  sit  me  down  upon  yon  broken  rock, 

To  muse  upon  the  strange  and  solemn  things 

Of  this  mysterious  realm. 

2.  All  day  my  steps 
Have  been  amid  the  beautiful,  the  wild, 
The  gloomy,  the  terrific.     Crystal  founts, 
Almost  invisible  in  their  serene 

And  pure  transparency, — high  pillar'd  domes, 
With  stars  and  flowers  all  fretted  like  the  halls 
Of  Oriental  monarchs, — rivers,  dark 
And  drear,  and  voiceless  as  oblivion's  stream 
That  flows  through  Death's  dim  vale  of  silence, — gulfs, 
All  fathomless,  down  which  the  loosened  rock 
Plunges,  until  its  far-off"  echoes  come 
(pp)  Fainter  and  fainter,  like  the  dying  roll 
(  Q  )  Of  thunders  in  the  distance, — Stygian'  pools 

Whose  agitated  waves  give  back  a  sound, 
(oq)  Hollow  and  dismal,  like  the  sullen  roar 

In  the  volcano's  depths, — these,  these  have  left 
Their  spell  upon  me,  and  their  memories 
Have  passed  into  my  spirit,  and  are  now 
Blent  with  my  being,  till  they  seem  a  part 
OS  js:v  own  immortality. 

3.  God's  hand, 
At  the  creation,  hollowed  out  this  vast 
Domain  of  darkness,  where  no  herb  nor  flower 
E'er  sprang  amid  the  sands ;  nor  dews  nor  rains, 


298  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Nor  blessed  sunbeams,  fell  witb  freshening  power ; 

Nor  gentle  breeze  its  Eden-message  told 

Amid  the  dreadful  gloom.     Six  thousand  years 

Swept  o'er  the  earth  ere  human  foot-prints  marked 

This  subterranean  desert.     Centuries, 

Like  shadows,  came  and  passed,  and  not  a  sound 

Was  in  this  realm,  save,  when  at  intervals, 

In  the  long  lapse  of  ages,  some  huge  mass 

Of  overhanging  rock  fell  thundering  down, 

Its  echoes  sounding  through  these  corridors^ 

A  moment,  and  then  dying  in  a  hush 

Of  silence,  such  as  brooded  o'er  the  earth 

When  earth  was  chaos. 

4.  The  great  Mastodon*, 
The  dreaded  monster  of  the  elder  world, 
Passed  o'er  this  mighty  cavern,  and  his  tread 
Bent  the  old  forest  oaks  like  fragile  reeds, 

And  made  earth  tremble. — Armies  in  their  pride, 
Perchance,  have  met  above  it  in  the  shock 
Of  war,  with  shout,  and  groan,  and  clarion  blast, 
And  the  hoarse  echoes  of  the  thunder-gun. 
The  storm,  the  whirlwind,  and  the  hurricane, 
Have  roared  above  it,  and  the  bursting  cloud 
Sent  down  its  red  and  crashing  thunder-bolt. 
Earthquakes  have  trampled  o'er  it  in  their  wrath, 
Kocking  earth's  surface  as  the  storm-wind  rocks 
The  old  Atlantic ; — yet  no  sound  of  these 
E'er  came  down  to  the  everlasting  depths 
Of  these  dark  solitudes. 

5.  How  oft  we  gaze 
With  awe  or  admiration  on  the  new 
And  unfamiliar,  but  pass  coldly  by 

The  lovelier  and  the  mightier!     Wonderful 
Is  this  lone  world  of  darkness  and  of  gloom ; 
But  far  more  wonderful  yon  outer  world, 
Lit  by  the  glorious  sun.     These  arches  swell 


FIFTH     BOOK.  299 

Sublime  in  lone  and  dim  magnificence  ; 
But  how  sublimer  God's  blue  canopy, 
Beleagured*  with  his  burning  cherubim*, 
Keeping  their  watch  eternal ! 

6.  Beautiful 

Are  all  the  thousand  snow-white  gems  that  lie 
In  these  mysterious  chambers,  gleaming  out 
Amid  the  melancholy  gloom  ;  and  wild 
These  rocky  hills,  and  clifis,  and  gulfs ;  but  far 
More  beautiful  and  wild  the  things  that  greet 
The  wanderer  in  our  world  of  light, — the  stars 
Floating  on  high  like  islands  of  the  blest, — 
The  autumn  sunsets,  glowing  like  the  gate 
Of  far-ofi"  Paradise, — the  gorgeous  clouds, 
On  which  the  glories  of  the  earth  and  sky, 
Meet  and  commingle, — earth's  unnumbered  flowers, 
All  turning  up  their  gentle  eyes  to  heaven, — 
The  birds,  with  bright  wings  glancing  in  the  sun, 
Filling  the  air  with  rainbow  miniatures, — 
The  green  old  forests,  surging  in  the  gale, — 
The  everlasting  mountains,  on  whose  peaks 
The  setting  sun  burns  like  an  altar  flame, — 
And  ocean,  like  a  pure  heart,  rendering  back 
Heaven's  perfect  image,  or  in  his  wild  wrath 
Heaving  and  tossing  like  the  stormy  breast 
Of  a  chained  giant  in  his  agony. 


LESSON   CXIIK 


• 


MENTAL  IMPROVEMENT,   A  PROGRESSIVE  WORK. 

IRA  HAREIS. 

1.  That  which  is  most  easily  produced,  most  quickly  per- 
ishes. The  diamond  requires  ages  to  consummate  its  virtues ; 
other  crystals  are  formed  in  an  instant.  The  diamond  is  inde- 
structible ;  the  latter  dissolve  in  a  breath.      The  islands  of  the 


i 


300  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

sea  are  sometimes  formed  by  the  slow  process  of  accretion,* 
and  sometimes  are  thrown  up  at  once  from  the  depths  below.  - 
Ages  upon  ages  pass  away  without  obliterating  the  one  ;  while 
the  other  disappears,  as  it  came,  in  a  single  night,  leaving  no 
record  that  it  ever  has  been,  but  in  the  sea  legend  of  the  mar- 
iner. 

2.  The  majestic  oak,  which  it  requires  a  century  to  mature, 
abides  another  century  without  shaking  to  the  blast,  and 
when  its  period  of  decay  arrives,  it  sinks  away  into  the  dust, 
by  the  same  gradual  process  ;  while  the  beauteous  flower  that 
opens  in  the  night,  and  perfumes,  with  its  fragrance,  the  morn- 
ing zephyr,  disappears  ere  the  sun  reaches  his  meridian. 

3.  Cities  that  have  been  centuries  in  building,  have  contin- 
ued to  flourish  for  centuries  longer ;  while  cities  have  sprung 
up  in  a  single  season,  to  be  abandoned  with  the  next.  The 
insect  that,  in  a  moment,  is  hatched  and  flutters  its  gaudy 
wings  in  the  sunbeam,  dies  with  the  hour,  and  numerous  gen- 
erations of  insignificant  beauty  succeed  and  depart,  ere  the 
noble  form  of  man  has  reached  its  maturity. 

4.  And  should  we  expect  that  the  nobler  works  of  the  men- 
tal powers,  should  be  freed  from  the  influence  of  a  law,  so  uni- 
form and  so  just?  No;  that  which  is  suddenly  acquired, 
whether  it  be  fortune  or  reputation,  will  soon  vanish  away. 
There  is  sound  philosophy  in  the  vulgar  adage, — "  Light  comes, 
light  goes."  It  is  founded  in  a  great  fundamental  law  of  our 
being.  He  who  is  admired  for  a  moment,  and  is  content  with 
such  admiration,  shall  in  a  moment  be  forgotten.  History 
abounds  with  examples  of  the  worthlessness  of  sudden  popu- 
larity. It  is  the  tempestuous  brightening  of  a  moment,  a  sin- 
gle moment  only, — 

"  The  sound  of  passing  music,  the  brief  blossoming  of  summer  flowers." 

6.  It  is  a  fixed  law  of  nature,  the  wisdom  of  which  we  may 
not,  perhaps,  fully  comprehend,  but  which,  like  every  other 
rule   proceeding  from  the  great  Author  of  nature,  must  be 

*  A.CCEETI0N,  (ac  or  ad,  to;  creiion,  an  increase),  a  growing  to;  an 
increase  by  natural  growth. 


FIFTH      BOOK.  301 

right, — that  no  important  benefit  is  to  be  acquired  but  by  the 
exercise  of  self-denial,  and  corresponding  effort.  Present  and 
inferior  gratifications  must  be  sacrificed  for  the  sake  of  the  fu- 
ture and  greater  good ;  and,  whatever  may  be  the  result  of 
other  undertakings,  in  which  it  is  not  given  to  mortals  "  to 
command  success,"  virtuous  exertion  never  fails  to  bring  with 
it  a  greater  or  less  reward. 

6.  Under  the  operation  of  our  social  and  political  system, 
founded  on  republican  principles  and  equal  rights,  there  is  a 
perpetual  transition,  in  our  condition  in  life,  which  amounts  al- 
most to  a  rotation.  Let  an  inquiry  be  instituted  into  the  orig- 
inal conditions,  and  the  cause  of  the  present  situation  of  those 
who  are  called  rich,  and  the  results  would  be  found  to  be  as 
curious  as  they  would  be  instructive. 

7.  They  would  teach  the  industrious  and  virtuous  poor,  of 
Avhatever  calling,  to  be  patient,  if  not  confident,  and  to  admire 
and  love  that  American  system  of  social  economy,  which  opens 
to  all  alike  the  lottery  of  life ;  which  permits  any  one,  how- 
ever poor,  to  become  rich,  and  invites  any  one,  however  hum- 
ble, to  aspire  to  a  level  with  the  highest  of  his  fellow-citizens. 
The  privileges  and  benefits  and  honors  of  our  social  and  polit- 
ical institutions,  are  alike  the  inheritance  of  all. 

8.  All  professions  and  callings  have  equal  political  and  civil 
rights,  and  .equal  opportunities  of  affluence  and  elevation.  If 
there  is  diversity  of  condition,  it  is  because  there  is  diversity 
of  talent,  or  industry,  or  enterprise.  Every  man  may  look 
upon  wealth,  and  honor,  and  public  usefulness  as  his  present 
possession  or  his  probable  gain.  He  is  a  proprietor  either  in 
possession  or  in  expectancy.  Here  the  field  of  enterprise  and 
of  usefulness  stretches  out  in  wider  expanse  than  in  any  other 
country.  Here,  too,  rather  than  anywhere  else,  may  it  be 
said : — "  the  soul  of  man  createth  its  own  destiny  of  power." 

9.  No  man  can  elevate  himself  above  the  multitude  in  any 
profession  or  calling  in  life,  without  the  labor  proportionate  to 
the  elevation  he  seeks.  But,  most  of  all,  should  the  scholar, 
if  he  would  become  distinguished  and  useful  in  the  profession 
of  his  choice,  or  as  a  man  of  science,  cultivate  the  habit  of 


302  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

laborious  application.  So  lofty  and  varied  are  the  powers  of 
tlie  human  mind,  that  no  excellence  is  inaccessible  to  the 
united  efforts  of  talent  and  industry. 


LESSON   CXIY* 

LIFE  AND  DEATH   CONTRASTED. 

TOTJNa 

1.  A  GOOD  man  and  an  angel !  these  between 
How  thin  the  barrier  !     What  divides  their  fate  ? 
Perhaps  a  moment,  or,  perhaps  a  year ; 

Or,  if  an  age,  it  is  a  moment  still, — 

A  moment,  or  eternity's  forgot. 

Life  is  much  flattered,  Death  is  much  traduced 

Compare  the  rivals,  and  the  kinder  crown. 

2.  "  Strange  competition  !" — True,  Lorenzo,  strange 
So  little  life  can  cast  into  the  scale ! 

Life  makes  the  soul  dependent  on  the  dust. 
Death  gives  her  wmgs  to  mount  above  the  spheres. 
Through  chinks,  styled  organs,  dim  life  peeps  at  light ; 
Death  bursts  the  involving  cloud,  and  all  is  day, — 
All  eye,  all  ear,  the  disembodied  power. 

3.  Death  has  feigned  evils  nature  shall  not  feel ; 
Life,  ills  substantial  wisdom  can  not  shun. 

Is  not  the  mighty  mind,  that  sun  of  heaven, 
By  tyrant  life  dethroned,  imprisoned,  pained  ? 
By  Death  enlarged,  ennobled,  deified  ? 
Death  but  entombs  the  body ;  life,  the  soul. 

4  "  Is  Death  then  guiltless  ?     How  he  marks  his  way 

With  dreadful  waste  of  what  deserves  to  shine ! 
Art,  genius,  fortune,  elevated  power, — 
With  various  lusters  these  light  up  the  world, 
Which  Death  puts  out,  and  darkens  human  race." 
I  grant  this  indictment  just ; 
The  sage,  peer,  potentate,  king,  conqueror, — 
Death  humbles  these ;  more  barbarous  life,  the  man. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  303 

6.  Life  is  the  triumpli  of  our  moldering  clay ; 
Death,  of  the  spirit  infinite, — divine ! 
Death  has  no  dread  but  what  frail  life  imparts, 
Nor  life  true  joy  but  what  kind  Death  improves. 
No  bliss  has  life  to  boast,  till  Death  can  give 
Far  greater.     Life's  a  debtor  to  the  grave, 
Dark  lattice  !  letting  in  ethereal  day. 

6.  O  Lorenzo  !  blush  at  thy  fondness  for  a  life 
Which  sends  celestial  souls  on  errands  vile, 
To  cater*  for  the  sense,  and  serve  at  boards 
Where  every  ranger  of  the  wilds,  perhaps 
Each  reptile,  justly  claims  our  upper  hand. 
Luxurious  feast !  a  soul,  a  soul  immortal, 
In  all  the  dainties  of  a  brute  beraired ! 

7.  O  Lorenzo  !  blush  at  thy  ten'or  for  a  death 
Which  gives  thee  to  repose  in  festive  bowers, 
Where  nectars  sparkle,  angels  minister, — 
And  more  than  angels  share,  and  raise,  and  crown, 
And  eternize,  the  birth,  bloom,  bursts  of  bliss. 
What  need  I  more  ? — 0  Death  !  the  palm  is  thine. 

8.  Then  welcome,  Death !  thy  dreaded  harbingers,  ,■ 
Age  and  disease  1     Disease,  though  long  my  guest, 
That  plucks  my  nerves,  those  tender  strings  of  life, 
Which,  plucked  a  little  more,  will  toll  the  bell 
That  calls  my  few  friends  to  my  funeral, 
Where  feeble  nature  drops,  perhaps,  a  tear, 
While  Reason  and  Religion,  better  taught. 
Congratulate  the  dead,  and  crown  his  tomb 
With  wreath  triumphant.     Death  is  victory ! 
It  binds  in  chains  the  raging  ills  of  life ; — 
That  ills  corrosive,  cares  importunate, 
Are  not  immortal,  too,  O  Death !  is  thine. 

9.  Our  day  of  dissolution ! — name  it  right, 
'Tis  our  great  pay-day ;  'tis  our  harvest,  rich 

*  Cater,  to  provide  food,  or  sustenance. 


304:  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

And  ripe.     "What  though  the  sickle,  sometimes  keen, 

Just  scars  us  as  we  reap  the  golden  grain  1 

More  than  thy  balm,  O  Gilead !  heals  the  wound. 

Birth's  feeble  cry,  and  Death's  deep  dismal  groan, 

Are  slender  tributes  low- taxed  Nature  pays 

For  mighty  gain, — the  gain  of  each  a  life ! 

But,  O  !  the  last  the  former  so  transcends. 

Life  dies,  compared ; — Life  lives  beyond  the  tomb. 

10.  Death  is  the  crown  of  life! 

Were  death  denied,  poor  man  would  live  in  vain, — 
Were  death  denied,  to  live  would  not  be  life, — 
Were  death  denied,  even  fools  would  wish  to  die. 
Death  wounds  to  cure ;  we  fall, — we  rise, — we  reign ! 
Spring  from  our  fetters,  fasten  in  the  skies, 
Where  blooming  Eden  withers  in  our  sight. 
Death  gives  us  more  than  was  in  Eden  lost ; — 
This  king  of  terrors  is  the  prince  of  peace. 

»■«♦«» 

LESSON   CXV* 

VENERATION   FOR   THE   TOMB,    A  PROOF   OF   THE    SOUL'S 

IMMORTALITY. 

From  the  French  o/ Chateaubriand. 

1  The  veneration  of  mankind  for  the  tomb,  is  a  proof  of 
the  immortality  of  the  soul.  There,  by  an  invisible  charm, 
life  is  attached  to  death ;  there  the  human  race  declares  itself 
superior  to  the  rest  of  creation,  and  proclaims  aloud  its  lofty 
destinies.  What  animal  regards  its  grave,  or  disquiets  itself 
about  the  ashes  of  its  fathers  ?  Whence  comes  then  the  all- 
powerful  idea  which  we  entertain  of  death  ? 

2.  Do  a  few  grains  of  dust  merit  so  much  consideration  ? 
No ;  we  respect  the  dead  because  an  inward  voice  tells  us  that 
all  is  not  lost  with  them ;  and  that  is  the  voice  which  has  every- 
where consecrated  the  funeral  services  throughout  the  world  ; 
all  are  equally  persuaded  that  the  sleep  is  not  eternal,  even  in 
the  tomb,  and  that  death  itself  is  but  a  glorious  transfigura- 
tion. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  305 

THE    CONSOLATION    OF    DEATH. 

JOHK  FOSTER. 

1.  What  a  superlatively  grand  and  consoling  idea  is  that 
of  death  !  Without  this  radiant  idea,  this  deliffhtful  morninir- 
star,  indicating  that  the  luminary  of  Eternity  is  about  to  rise, 
life  would  darken  into  midnight  melancholy.  Oh  !  the  expect- 
ation of  living  here^  and  living  thus,  always,  would  be,  indeed, 
a  prospect  of  overwhelming  despair ! 

2.  But  thanks  to  that  fatal  decree  that  dooms  us  to  die,— 
thanks  to  that  Gospel  which  opens  the  vision  of  an  endless 
life, — and  thanks,  above  all,  to  that  Savior  who  has  promised 
to  conduct  us  through  the  sacred  trance  of  death,  into  scenes 
of  paradise  and  everlasting  delight ! 


THE    DTINa    CHETSTIAN    TO  HIS    SOUL. 

POPE. 

1.  Vital  spark  of  heavenly  flame, 

Quit,  O  quit  this  mortal  frame ! 
Trembling,  hoping,  lingering,  flying, 
O,  the  pain,  the  bliss  of  dying ! 
Cease,  fond  nature,  cease  thy  strife. 
And  let  me  languish  into  life. 

2.  Hark  ! — they  whisper  ;  angels  say : — 
"  Sister  spirit,  come  away  !" 

What  is  this  absorbs  me  quite  ? 
Steals  my  senses,  shuts  my  sight, 
Drowns  my  spirit,  draws  my  breath  ? 
Tell  me,  my  soul,  can  this  be  death  ? 

3.  The  world  recedes ;  it  disappears  ; 
Heaven  opens  on  my  eyes ;  my  ears 
With  sounds  seraphic  ring  : — 

Lend,  lend  your  wings  !  I  mount !  I  fly  ! 
"  O  Grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ? 
O  Death,  where  is  thy  sting  ?" 


606  SANDERS'      NEW      SERIES. 

LESSON  CXYU 
INDIAN  MODE  OF  KILLING  THE  BUFFALO. 

GEORGE  CATLIN. 

1.  Ti^E  Buffalo  is  a  noble  animal  that  roams  over  the  vast 
prairies,  from  the  borders  of  Mexico  on  the  south,  to  Hudson's 
Bay  on  the  north.  Their  flesh  which  is  easily  procured,  fur- 
nishes the  Indians  of  these  vast  regions  of  the  west,  the  means 
of  a  good  and  wholesome  subsistence,  and  they  live  almost 
exclusively  upon  it ;  while  of  the  skins,  horns,  hoofs,  and  bones, 
they  construct  dresses,  shields,  bows,  and  other  utensils. 

2.  The  mode,  in  which  the  Indians  kill  this  noble  animal,  is 
spirited  and  thrilling  in  the  extreme.  I  have  almost  daily  ac- 
companied parties  of  Indians  to  witness  the  sport,  and  have 
often  shared  in  it  myself;  but  oftener  have  run  my  horse  by 
their  sides  to  see  how  the  feat  y^as  accomplished, — to  study 
tlie  modes  and  expressions  of  these  splendid  scenes. 

3.  In  the  chase  of  the  Buffalo  or  other  animals,  the  Indian 
generally  "  strips"  himself  and  his  horse,  by  throwing  off  his 
shield  and  quiver,  and  every  part  of  his  dress,  which  might  be 
an  incumbrance  to  him  in  running,  grasping  his  bow  in  his 
left  hand,  with  five  or  six  arrows  drawn  from  his  quiver,  and 
ready  for  instant  use.  In  his  right  hand,  or  attached  to  the 
wrist,  is  a  heavy  whip  which  he  uses  without  mercy,  and  forces 
his  horse  alongside  of  his  game,  at  the  swiftest  speed. 

4.  The  horses  are  all  trained  for  this  business,  and  seem  to 
enter  into  it  with  as  much  enthusiasm,  and  with  as  restless  a 
spirit,  as  the  riders  themselves'.  While  preparing  and  mount- 
ing, they  exhibit  the  most  restless  impatience  ;  and  when  ap- 
proaching, (which  is  all  abreast,  upon  a  slow  walk,  and  in  a 
straight  line  toward  the  herd,)  they  all  seem  to  have  caught 
entirely  the  spirit  of  the  chase ;  for  the  laziest  nag  among  them 
prances  with  an  elastic  step, — champing  his  bit, — his  ears 
erect, — his  eyes  strained  out  of  his  head,  and  fixed  upon  the 
game  before  him,  while  he  trembles  under  the  saddle  of  his 
I'ider. 

5.  In  this   way   they  carefully  and  silently   march,  until 


FIFTH     BOOK.  807 

jv'itbin  some  forty  or  fifty  rods  of  the  game ;  when  the  herd 
discovering  them,  Avheel  and  lay  their  course  in  a  mass.  At 
this  instant  they  start, — and  all  must  start,  for  no  one  could 
check  the  fury  of  those  steeds  at  that  moment  of  excitement, 
— and  away  all  sail,  and  over  the  prairie  fly,  in  a  cloud  of  dust 
which  is  raised  by  their  trampling  hoofs. 

6.  When  the  Indian  has  directed  the  course  of  his  steed  to 
the  animal  which  he  has  chosen,  as  his  victim,  the  training  of 
the  horse  is  such,  that  it  knows  the  object  of  its  rider's  selec- 
tion, and  exerts  every  muscle  to  give  it  close  company ;  while 
the  halter  lies  loose  and  untouched  upon  its  neck,  and  the  rider 
leans  quite  forward,  and  off  from  the  side  of  his  horse,  with 
his  bow  drawn,  and  ready  for  the  deadly  shot  which  is  given 
at  the  instant  he  is  opposite  to  the  animal's  body. 

7.  The  horse,  being  instinctively  afraid  of  the  animal,  (though 
he  generally  brings  his  rider  within  the  reach  of  the  end  of  his 
bow,)  keeps  his  eye  strained  upon  the  furious  enemy  he  is  so 
closely  encountering ;  and  the  moment  he  has  approached  to 
the  nearest  distance  required,  and  has  passed  the  animal, 
whether  the  shot  is  given  or  not,  he  gradually  sheers  off  to 
prevent  coming  on  to  the  horns  of  the  infuriated  beast,  which 
often  are  instantly  turned,  and  presented  for  the  fatal  reception 
of  its  too  familiar  attendant. 

8.  These  frightful  collisions  often  take  place,  notwithstand- 
ing the  sagacity  of  the  horse,  and  the  caution  of  its  rider  ;  for 
in  these  extraordiaary  and  inexpressible  exhilarations  of  chase, 
which  seem  to  drown  the  prudence  alike  of  instinct  and  reason, 
both  horse  and  rider  seem  rushing  on  to  destruction,  as  if  it 
were  mere  pastime  and  amusement. 

9.  I  have  always  counted  myself  a  prudent  man,  yet  I  have 
often  waked,  as  it  were,  out  of  the  delirium  of  the  chase,  into 
which  I  had  fallen,  as  into  an  agitated  sleep,  and  through 
which  I  had  passed  as  through  a  delightful  dream,  in  which, 
to  have  died,  would  have  been  but  to  have  remained,  riding  on, 
without  a  struggle  or  a  pang.  In  some  of  these,  I  have  arisen 
from  the  prairie,  covered  with  dirt  and  blood,  having  parted 
company  with  gun  and  horse,  the  one  lying  some  twenty  or 


308  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

thirty  feet  from  me  witli  broken  stock,  and  the  othier  coolly 
grazing  at  half  a  mile  distance, 

10,  With  the  Indian,  who  has  made  this  the  every-day  sport 
and  amusement  of  his  life,  there  is  less  difficulty  and  less  dan- 
ger ;  he  rides  without  "  losing  his  breath,"  and  his  unagitated 
hand  deals  certainty  in  its  deadly  blows. 


LESSOM    CXVIU 
INDIAN    MODE    OF    BILLING    THE    BUFFALO.— Continued. 

GEORGE   CATLIN. 

1 .  A  FEW  mornings  since,  I  was  an  eye-witness  to  one  ot 
these  scenes,  which  I  deem  worthy  of  being  described.  The 
MiNATAREES,  as  Well  as  the  Mandans,*  had  suffered  for  some 
months  for  want  of  meat,  and  had  indulged  in  the  most  alarm- 
ing fears  that  the  herds  of  buffaloes  were  emigrating  so  far  off 
from  them,  that  there  was  great  danger  of  their  actual  starva- 
tion ;  when  it  was  suddenly  announced,  through  the  village,  one 
morning,  at  an  early  hour,  that  a  herd  of  buffaloes  was  in  sight. 
Immediately  a  hundred  or  more  young  men,  with  weapons  in 
hand,  mounted  their  horses  and  steered  their  course  to  the 
prairies. 

2.  The  chief  informed  me  that  one  of  his  horses  was  in 
readiness  for  me  at  the  door  of  his  wigwam,  and  he  wished 
me  to  go  and  see  the  curious  affair.  I  accepted  his  polite  of- 
fer, and  mounting  the  steed,  galloped  off  with  the  hunters  to 
the  prairies,  where  we  soon  descried,  at  a  distance,  a  fine  herd 
of  buffaloes  grazing,  when  a  halt  and  a  council  was  ordered. 

3.  The  plan  of  the  attack,  which,  in  this  country,  is  famili- 
arly called  a  "  surround,^''  was  explicitly  agreed  upon,  and  the 
hunters  who  were  all  mounted  on  their  "  buffalo  horses,"  and 
armed  with  bows  and  arrows  or  long  lances,  divided  into  two 
columns,  taking  opposite  directions,  and  drew  themselves  gra- 
dually around  the  herd,  at  the  distance  of  a  mile  or  more  from 
them  ;   thus  forming  a  circle  of  horsemen  at  equal  distances 

*  Names  of  Tribes  of  Indians  on  the  Upper  Missouri. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  309 

apart,  wlio  gradually  closed  in  upon  the  herd  with  a  moderate 
pace,  at  a  given  signal. 

4.  The  unsuspecting  herd,  at  length,  "  got  the  wind"  of  the 
approaching  enemy,  and  fled  in  a  mass  in  the  greatest  confu- 
sion. To  the  point  where  they  were  aiming  to  cross  the  line, 
the  horsemen  were  seen  at  full  speed,  gathering  and  forming 
in  a  column,  brandishing  their  weapons,  and  yelling  in  tho  most 
frightful  manner ;  by  which  means  they  turned  the  black  and 
rushing  mass  which  moved  off  in  an  opposite  direction,  where 
they  were  again  met  and  foiled  in  a  similar  manner,  and  they 
wheeled  back  in  utter  confusion.  By  this  time  the  horsemen 
had  closed  in  from  all  directions,  forming  a  continuous  line 
around  them,  while  the  poor  affrighted  animals  were  ec'.dying 
about  in  a  crowded  and  confused  mass,  when  the  work  of 
death  commenced. 

5.  I  rode  up  in  the  rear,  and  occupied  an  elevated  position 
at  a  few  rods  distance,  from  which  I  could,  like  the  general  of 
a  battle-field,  survey  from  my  horse's  back,  the  nature  and  the 
progress  of  the  general  melee ;  but,  unlike  him,  without  the 
power  of  issuing  a  command,  or,  in  any  way,  directing  its 
issue. 

6.  In  this  grand  turmoil,  a  cloud  of  dust  was  raised,  which, 
in  part,  obscured  the  throng  where  the  hunters  were  galloping 
their  horses,  and  driving  the  whizzing  arrows  or  their  long 
lances  to  the  hearts  of  these  noble  animals,  which,  in  many 
instances,  becoming  infuriated  with  deadly  wounds  in  their 
sides,  erected  their  shaggy  manes  over  their  blood-shot  eyes, 
and  furiously  plunged  forward  at  the  sides  of  their  assailants' 
horses,  sometimes  goring  them  to  death  at  a  lunge,  and  putting 
their  dismounted  riders  to  flight  for  their  lives. 

v.  Sometimes  the  dense  crowd  was  opened,  and  the  blinded 
horsemen,  too  intent  on  their  prey  amidst  the  cloud  of  dust, 
were  hemmed  and  wedged  in  amidst  the  crowding  beasts,  over 
"whose  backs  they  were  obliged  to  leap  for  security,  leaving 
their  horses  to  the  fate  that  might  await  them,  in  the  results  of 
this  wild  and  desperate  war. 

8.  Many  were  the  buffaloes  that  turned  upon  their  assailants, 


310  SANDERS'      NEW      SERIES. 

and  met  them  with  desperate  resistance  ;  and  many  were  the 
warriors  who  were  dismounted,  and  saved  themselves  by  im- 
petuous flight.  Some  who  were  closely  pursued  by  the  en- 
raged animals,  wheeled  suddenly  around,  and  snatching  the 
part  of  a  buffalo  robe  from  around  their  waists,  threw  it  over 
the  horns  and  eyes  of  the  infuriated  beast,  and  darting  by  its 
side,  drove  the  arrow  or  lance  to  its  heart.  Others  suddenly 
dashed  off  upon  the  prairies  by  the  side  of  the  affrighted  ani- 
mals which  had  escaped  from  the  throng,  and  closely  escorting 
them  for  a  few  rods,  brought  down  their  hearts'  blood  in 
streams,  and  their  huge  carcasses  upon  the  green,  enameled 
turf. 

9.  In  this  way,  this  grand  hunt  soon  resolved  itself  into  a 
desperate  battle  ;  and,  in  the  space  of  fifteen  minutes,  resulted 
in  the  total  destruction  of  the  whole  herd,  which,  in  all  their 
strength  and  fury,  were  doomed,  like  every  beast  and  every 
living  thing  else,  to  fall  before  the  destroying  hands  of  mighty 
man. 

10.  Many  are  the  rudenesses  and  wilds  in  Nature's  worts, 
which  are  destined  to  fall  before  the  deadly  ax  and  desolating 
hands  of  cultivated  man.  Of  such  rudenesses  and  wilds, 
Nature  has  nowhere  presented  more  beautiful  and  lovely 
scenes,  than  those  of  the  vast  prairies  of  the  West ;  and  of 
man  and  beast,  no  nobler  specimens  than  those  that  inhabit 
them, — the  Indian  and  the  Buffalo, — ^joint  and  original 
tenants  of  the  soil,  and  fugitives  together  from  the  approach 
of  civilized  man  :  they  have  fled  to  the  great  plains  of  the 
AVest,  and  there,  under  an  equal  doom,  they  have  taken  up 
their  last  abode,  where  their  race  will  expire,  and  their  bones 
will  bleach  together. 


LESSON  CXVIIU 


Note. — During  the  Indian  wars  on  tlie  western  frontier,  the  Miami 
Indians  took  captive  a  female  child,  whose  family  name  was  Slocum.  She 
was  adopted  into  the  -familj'  of  the  warrior,  by  whom  she  was  taken  cap- 
tive, and  finally  married  an  Indian  chief.     After  a  number  of  years  had 


FIFTH     BOOK.  311 

elapsed,  every  inducement  was  ineffectually  used  by  her  friends  to  per- 
suade her  to  return  with  them  to  their  home,  the  place  of  her  nativity. 
This  incident  forms  the  subject  of  the  following  lines. 

THE  WHITE  ROSE  OF  MIAMI. 

MRS.  E.  L.  SCHERMERHORN. 

1.  Let  me  stay  at  my  home,  in  tlie  beautiful  West, 
Where  I  played  when  a  child, — in  my  age  let  me  rest ; 
Where  the  bright  prairies  bloom,  and  the  wild  waters  play, 
In  the  home  of  my  heart,  dearest  friends,  let  me  stay. 

2.  0,  here  let  me  stay,  where  my  Chief  in  the  pride 

Of  a  brave  warrior-youth,  wandered  forth  by  my  side  ! 
Where  he  laid  at  my  feet,  the  young  hunter's  best  prey, 
Where  I  roamed  a  wild  huntress, — 0  friends,  let  me  stay ! 

3.  Let  me  stay  where  the  prairies  I'v^e  oft  wandered  through, 
While  my  moccasins  brushed  from  the  flowers  the  dew ; — 
Where  my  warrior  would  pluck  the  wild  blossoms  and  say, — 
His  White  Rose  was  the  fairest, — O,  here  let  me  stay ! 

4.  O,  here  let  me  stay  !  where  bright  plumes  from  the  wnng 
Of  the  bird  that  his  arrow  had  pierced,  he  would  bring ; 
Where,  in  parting  for  battle,  he  softly  would  say, 

"  'Tis  to  shield  thee  I  fight," — O,  with  him  let  me  stay  ! 

5.  Let  me  stay,  though  the  strength  of  my  Chieftain  is  o'er. 
Though  his  warriors  he  leads  to  the  battle  no  more ; 

He  loves  through  the  woods,  a  wild  hunter  to  stray, 
His  heart  clings  to  home, — 0,  then,  here  let  me  stay  ! 

6.  Let  me  stay  where  my  children  in  childhood  have  played, 
Where,  through  the  green  forest,  they  often  have  strayed  : 
They  never  could  bend  to  the  white  man's  cold  sway, 
For  their  hearts  are  of  fire, — 0,  here  let  them  stay  ! 

7.  You  tell  me  of  leaves  of  the  Spirit  that  speak ; 
But  the  Spirit  I  own,  in  the  bright  stars  I  seek ; 
In  the  prairie,  in  the  forest,  the  water's  wild  play, 
I  see  Him,  I  hear  Him, — 0,  then,  let  me  stay ! 


812  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON  CXIX* 
Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Cat'  i  line  was  a  celebrated  Roman,  who, 
after  he  had  squandered  an  ample  fortune  by  dissipation,  and  had  been 
refused  the  Consulship,  secretly  meditated  the  ruin  of  his  country,  and 
conspired  with  many  illustrious  Romans,  as  dissolute  as  himselfj  to  ex- 
tirpate the  Senate,  plunder  the  treasury,  and  set  fire  to  Rome.  This 
conspiracy  was  timely  discovered  by  the  Consul,  Ciceeo,  whom  he  had 
resolved  to  murder.  CatUine  ultimately  fell,  fighting  desperately,  at  Pisto- 
ria,  in  Etruria,  B.  C.  62,  The  following  dialogue  portrays  the  remorse 
which  conscious  guUt  ever  experiences,  as  well  as  the  inevitable  ruin 
which  always  follows  a  life  of  dissipation. 

2.  Os'  Ti  A  was  a  town  at  the  mouth  of  the  Tiber. 

3.  Ses'terce  was  a  Roman  coin  worth  about  one  and  a  half  penny,  but 
it  was  not  at  aU  periods  alike  in  value. 

4.  Ma'  ri  us  was  a  Roman  general,  who  rendered  himself  a  favorite  with 
the  common  people,  and  was,  for  the  sixth  time,  chosen  Consul,  and  re- 
ceived the  honors  of  two  triumphs.  In  the  last  battle  with  the  northern 
barbarians,  150,000  of  them  were  slain,  and  Marius  entered  Rome  in  tri- 
umph. His  popularity  was  eventually  superseded  by  that  of  Sylla,  whom 
he  unsuccessfully  attempted  to  oppose. 

5.  Lie'  tors  were  Roman  servants,  who  attended  upon  the  magistrates 
to  fulfill  their  commands.  When  a  magistrate  appeared  in  public,  the 
LICTORS  preceded  him  in  file,  to  clear  the  road  of  the  populace,  and  pro- 
claim his  approach.  Each  hctor  bore  an  ax  and  rods,  as  ensigns  of  his  of- 
fice.    The  lictors  were,  also,  the  executioners  of  punishments. 

6.  Mars  was  fabled  by  the  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans  to  be  the  god 
of  war ;  Bellona,  the  goddess  of  war. 

•7.  Plu'to  was  the  fabled  god  of  the  infernal  regions.  Pros' er  pi  na 
was  the  wife  of  Pluto. 

REMORSE  OP  CONSCIENCE ;  OR  CATILINE. 

croly. 
Catiline. — Flung  on  my  pillow  !  Does  the  last  night's  wine 

Perplex  me  still  ?     Its  words  are  wild  and  bold. 

(Reads.)  "  Noble  Catiline  I  where  you  tread,  the  earth  is  hollow,  though 
it  gives  no  sound.     There  is  a  strong  storm  gathering,  though  there  are 
no  clouds  in  the  sky.     Rome  is  desperate  ;  three  hundred  Patricians  have 
sworn  to  do  their  duty  ;  and  what  three  hundred  have  sworn,  thirty  thou-    jfij 
sand  will  make  good." 

Why,  half  the  number  now  might  sack  the  city, 
With  all  its  knights,  before  a  spear  could  come 
From  Ostia*  to  their  succor. — 'Twere  a  deed  ! 

(Heads.)  "You  have  been  betrayed  by  the  Senate,  betrayed  by  theCon- 
Buls,  and  betrayed  by  the  people.     You  are  a  Roman !  can  you  suffer 


i 


FIFTH     BOOK.  313 

chains  ?     Tou  are  a  soldier !  can  you  submit  to  shame  ?     You  are  a  man  I 
will  you  be  ruined,  trampled  on,  disdained  ?"     [Flings  away  the  paper.'] 

Disdained  !     They're  in  the  right.     It  tells  the  truth  ; 

/  am  a  scoif  and  shame, — a  public  prate.  [heart, 

There's  one  way  left ;  \I)raws  a  poniard^  this  dagger  in  my 

The  quickest  cure !     But  'tis  the  coward's  cure  ; 

And  what  shall  heal  the  dearer  part  of  me, — 

My  reputation  ?     What  shield's  for  my  name, 

When  I  shall  fling  it,  like  my  corpse,  to  those 

Who  dared  not  touch  it  living,  for  their  lives  ? 

To  die  !  in  days  when  helms  are  burnisliing ; 

And  die  by  my  own  hand ! — Give  up  the  game 

Before  the  dice  are  thrown  !     Clamor  for  chains, 

Before  the  stirring  trumpet  sounds  the  charge  ! —  ' 

Sleep  in  your  sheath  !  [Sheathes  the  poniard.^ 

How  could  my  mind  give  place 
To  thoughts  so  desperate,  rash,  and  mutinous  f 

Would  I  give 
Joy  to  my  enemies,  sorrow  to  my  friends, 
Shut  up  the  gate  of  hope  upon  myself? 
I  will  abandon  Rome, — give  back  her  scorn 

With  tenfold  scorn, — break  up  all  league  with  her, 

All  memories.     I  will  not  breathe  her  air, 
Nor  warm  me  by  her  fire,  not  let  my  bones 
Mix  with  her  sepulchers.     The  oath  is  sworn. 

[Aurelia,  his  wife,  enters  with  papers.l 

Aurelia. — What  answers  for  this  pile  of  bills,  my  Lord  ? 

Catiline. — ^Who  can  have  sent  them  here? 

Aurelia. — Your  creditors ! 
As  if  ^ome  demon  woke  them  all  at  once. 
These  have  been  crowding  on  me  since  the  morn. 
Here,  debt  on  debt !     Will  you  discharge  them  now  ? 

Catiline. — I'll  think  on  it. 

Aurelia. — It  must  be  now, — this  day  ! 
Or,  by  to-morrow,  we  shall  have  no  home. 

Catiline. — 'Twill  soon  be  all  the  same. 

Aurelia. — We  are  undone  ! 

14 


814  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

My  gold,  my  father's  presents,  jewels,  rings, — 
All,  to  the  baubles  on  my  neck,  are  gone. 
The  consulship  might  have  upheld  us  still ; 
But  now,  we  must  go  down. 

Catiline. — Aurelia! — wife  ! 
All  will  be  well ;  but  hear  me, — stay  a  little  ; 
I  had  intended  to  consult  with  you 
On  our  departure  from  the  city. 

Aurelia.  [Indignantly  and  surprised^ — Rome  ? 

Catiline. — Even  so,  we  must  leave  Rome. 

Aurelia. — Let  me  look  on  you  ;  are  you  Catiline  ? 

Catiline.— I  know  not  what  I  am,— we  must  be  gone ! 

Aurelia. — Madness ! 

Catiline.  [  Wildly i\  Not  yet, — not  yet ! 

Aurelia. — Let  them  take  all. 

Catiline. — Seize  my  last  sesterce  !'  Let  them  have  their  will ; 
We  must  endure.     Ay,  ransack, — ruin  all ; 
Tear  up  my  father's  grave, — tear  out  my  heart ! 
Wife,  the  world's  wide.—  Can  we  not  dig  or  beg  ? 
Can  we  not  find  on  earth  a  den  or  tomb  ? 

Aurelia. — Before  /  stir,  they  shall  hew  off  my  hands  ! 

Catiline. — What's  to  be  done  ? 

Aurelia. — Hear  me.  Lord  Catiline ; 
The  day  we  wedded, — 'tis  but  three  short  years  since, — 
You  were  the  first  patrician  here, — and  I 

Was  Marius'*  daughter  !     There  was  not  in  Rome  m 

An  eye,  however  haughty,  but  would  sink  m 

When  /  turned  on  it ;  -syhen  I  passed  the  streets,  ' 

My  chariot  wheel  was  followed  by  a  host 
Of  your  chief  Senators ;  as  if  their  gaze 
Beheld  an  empress  on  its  golden  round, — 
An  earthly  providence ! 

Catiline. — 'Twas  so  ! — ^'twas  so  ! 
But  it  is  vanished, — gone. 

Aurelia. — By  yon  bright  sun  .' 
That  day  shall  come  again;  or,  in  its  place, 
One  that  shall  be  an  era  to  the  world! 


FIFTH     BOOK.  31b 

Catiline.  [^or^^rZy.]  — What's  in  your  thoughts? 

Aurelia. — Our  high  and  hurried  life 
Has  left  us  strangers  to  each  other's  souls ; 
But  now  we  think  alike.     You  have  a  sword, — 
Have  had  a  famous  name  in  the  legions  ! 

Catiline. — Hush  ! 

Aurelia. — Have  the  walls  ears  ?     I  wish  they  had, 
And  tongues,  too,  to  bear  witness  to  my  oath, 
And  tell  it  to  all  Rome. 

Catiline. — Would  you  destroy  ? 

Aurelia. — Were  I  a  thunderbolt ! 

Rome's  ship  is  rotten  ; 
Has  she  not  cast  you  out  ?  and  would  you  sink 
With  her,  when  she  can  give  you  no  gain  else 
Of  her  fierce  fellowship  ?     Who'd  seek  the  chain 
That  linked  him  to  his  mortal  enemy  ? 
Who'd  face  the  pestilence  in  his  foe's  house  ? 
Who,  when  the  poisoner  drinks,  by  chance,  the  cup, 
That  was  to  be  his  death,  would  squeeze  the  dregs, 
To  find  a  drop  to  bear  him  company  ? 

Catiline.  \_Shrinking^ — It  will  not  come  to  this. 

Aurelia.  [Haughtily^  (<)  Shall  we  be  dragged 
A  show  to  all  the  city  rabble  ; — robbed, — 
Down  to  the  very  mantle  on  our  backs, — 
A  pair  of  branded  beggars  ?     Doubtless  Cicero — 

Catiline. — Cursed  be  the  ground  he  treads  ! 
Name  him  no  more. 

Aurelia. — Doubtless  he'll  see  us  to  the  city  gates  ; 
'Twill  be  the  least  respect  that  he  can  pay 
To  ]x\'& fallen  rival.     Do  you  hear,  my  Lord? 
Deaf  as  the  rock,  [^s^c?e.]     With  all  his  lictors  shouting, — 
"  Room  for  the  noble  vagrants ;  all  caps  ofi" 
For  Catiline  ! — for  him  that  would  be  consul !" 

Catiline.  [^Turning  aioay.\ — Thus  to  be  like  the   scorpion, 
ringed  with  fire. 
Till  I  sting  mine  own  heart !  [^5«/e.]  There  is  no  hope  ! 

Aurelia. — One  hope  there  is,  worth  all  the  rest — revenge  ! 


316  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

The  time  is  harassed,  poor,  and  discontent, — 
Your  spirit  practiced,  keen,  and  desperate, — 
The  Senate  full  of  feuds,  the  city  vexed 
With  petty  tyranny, — the  legions  wronged. 

Catiline.  \^Scornfully^ — Yet,  who  has  stirred  ? 
"Woman,  you  paint  the  air  with  passion's  pencil. 

Aurelia. — Were  my  will  a  sword  !  [Rome 

Catiline. — Hear  me,  bold  heart !     The  whole  gross  blood  of 
Could  not  atone  my  wrongs  !     I'm  soul-shrunk,  sick, 
Weary  of  man !     And  now  my  mind  is  fixed 
For  Libya ;  there  to  make  companionship 
Eather  of  bear  and  tiger, — of  the  snake, — 
The  lion  in  his  hunger, — than  of  man ! 

Aurelia. — I  had  a  father  once,  who  would  have  plunged 
Rome  in  the  Tiber  for  an  angry  look ! 
You  saw  our  entrance  from  the  Gaulish  war  ? 

Catiline. — My  legion  was  in  Spain. 

Aurelia. — We  swept  through  Italy,  a  flood  of  fire, 
A  living  lava,  rolling  straight  on  Rome. 
For  days  before  we  reached  it,  the  whole  road 
Was  thronged  with  suppliants, — tribunes,  consulars. 
The  mightiest  names  of  the  state.     Could  gold  have  bribed, 
We  might  have  pitched  our  tents  and  slept  on  gold. 
But  we  had  work  to  do, — our  swords  were  thirsty. 
We  entered  Rome,  as  conquerors,  in  arms ; 
I,  by  my  father's  side,  cuirassed  and  helm'd, — 
Bellona  beside  Mars^ ! 

Catiline.  [  With  coldness^ — The  world  was  yours. 

Aurelia. — Rome  was  all  eyes  ;  the  ancient  tottered  forth ; 
The  cripple  propped  his  limbs  beside  the  wall ; 
The  dying  left  his  bed  to  look  and  die. 
The  way  before  us  was  a  sea  of  heads ; 
The  way  behind  a  torrent  of  brown  spears  ; 
So  on  we  rode,  in  fierce  and  funeral  pomp. 
Through  the  long,  living  streets,  that  sank  in  gloom, 
As  we,  like  Pluto  and  Proserpina', 
Enthroned,  rode  on,  like  twofold  destiny ! 


FIFTH     BOOK.  317 

Catiline.    [Sternly  interrupting  her.] — Tliose  triumplis  are 
but  gewgaws.     All  tlie  earth, 
What  is  it  ?     Dust  and  smoke !     I've  done  with  life. 

Aurelia.  [Coming  nearer  and  looking  steadfastly  on  him.'j 
Before  that  eve,  one  hundred  senators 
And  fifteen  hundred  knights,  had  paid, — in  blood, — 
The  price  of  taunts,  and  treachery,  and  rebellion  ! 
Were  ray  tongue  thunder, — I  would  cry.  Revenge  ! 

Catiline.  [In  sudden  wildness.] — No  more  of  this ! 
There  is  a  whirling  lightness  in  my  brain 
That  will  not  now  bear  questioning.     Away  ! 

[Aurelia  moves  slowly  toward  the  door.'] 
Where  are  our  veterans  now  ?     Look  on  these  walls, 
I  can  not  turn  their  tissues  into  life. 
Where  are  our  revenues, — our  chosen  friends  ? 
Are  we  not  beggars  ?     Where  have  beggars  friends  ? 
/  see  no  swords  and  bucklers  on  these  floors ! 
/  shake  the  state  !     /—what  have  I  on  earth 
But  these  two  hands  ?     Must  I  not  dig  or  starve  2 
Come  back !  I  had  forgot.     My  memory  dies, 
I  think,  by  the  hour.     Who  sups  with  us  to-night  ? 
Let  all  be  of  the  rarest, — spare  no  cost, — 
If  'tis  our  last ; — it  may  be, — ^let  us  sink 
In  sumptuous  ruin,  with  wonderers  round  us ! 
Our  funeral  pile  shall  send  up  amber  smokes ; 
We'll  burn  in  myrrh,  or — blood !     [She  goes.] 
I  feel  a  nameless  pressure  on  my  brow. 
As  if  the  heavens  were  thick  with  sudden  gloom ; 
A  shapeless  consciousness,  as  if  some  blow 
Were  hanging  o'er  my  head.     Tliey  say  such  thoughts 
Partake  of  prophecy.  [He  stands  at  the  casementi] 
This  air  is  living  sweetness.     Golden  sun, 
Shall  I  be  like  thee  yet  ?     The  clouds  have  past, 
And,  like  some  mighty  victor,  he  returns 
To  his  red  city  in  the  west,  that  now 
Spreads  all  her  gates,  and  lights  her  torches  up,    • 
In  triumph  for  her  glorious  conqueror. 


318  sandeks'new    series 

LESSON  CXX* 

EspLANATORT  NOTES. — 1.  In  the  year  1832,  a  state  convention  of  South 
Carohna  passed  an  ordinance,  declaring  that  certain  enactments  of  Con- 
gress, in  regard  to  imposts,  were  unconstitutional,  and  therefore  ntHl  and 
void,  and  that  any  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  United  States'  government 
to  enforce  them,  would  produce  the  withdrawal  of  that  State  from  the 
Union,  and  the  estabUshment  of  an  independent  government.  This  doc- 
trine was  promptly  met  by  the  President  of  the  United  States,  Andrew 
Jackson,  in  a  proclamation,  which  he  issued  Dec.  11,  1832,  from  which 
the  following  is  an  extract.  The  sentiments  of  the  proclamation  met  with 
a  cordial  response  from  all  the  friends  of  the  Union,  and  South  Carolina  with 
becoming  promptness  and  patriotism  receded  from  her  hostile  position. 

2.  Charles  C.  Pink'  net  and  Thomas  Pink'  ney,  brothers,  were  distin- 
guished Revolutionary  officers.  They  were  natives  of  South  Carolijia, 
but  were  educated  at  Oxford  in  England.  The  former  was  made  an  Aid- 
de-Camp  to  General  "Washington,  and  was,  also,  a  member  of  the  conven- 
tion which  framed  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States. 

3.  Thomas  Sum'  ter,  of  South  Carolina,  was  a  distinguished  general  in 
the  American  Revolution.  He  was  distinguished  for  his  firmness  and 
courage.     Died  June  1,  1832,  aged  98. 

4.  John  Rut'  ledge  and  Ed'  ward  Rut'  ledge  were  eminent  Revolu- 
tionary Patriots  of  South  Carolina.  The  former  was  a  member  of  the  first 
Continental  Congress,  1774,  and  was  distinguished  for  his  Demosthenian 
eloquence.  The  latter  was  one  of  the  signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence, and,  also,  an  officer  in  the  army  in  South  Carolina. 

AN  APPEAL   TO   THE   PATRIOTISM    OP    SOUTH  CAROLINA. 

ANDREW  JACKSON. 

1.  Fellow  Citizens  of  my  native  State!  let  me  not  only 
admonish  you,  as  the  first  magistrate  of  our  common  country, 
not  to  incur  the  penalty  of  its  laws,  but  use  the  influence  that 
a  father  would  over  his  children  whom  he  saw  rushing  to  cer- 
tain ruin.  In  that  paternal  language,  with  that  paternal  feel- 
ing, let  me  tell  you,  my  countrymen,  that  you  are  deluded  by 
men  who  either  are  deceived  themselves  or  wish  to  deceive  you. 
Mark  under  what  pretenses  you  have  been  led  on  to  the  brink 
of  insurrection  and  treason,  on  which  you  stand, 

2.  You  were  told  that  this  opposition  might  be  peaceably, 
— ^might  be  constitutionally  made, — that  you  might  enjoy  all 
the  advantages  of  the  Union,  and  bear  none  of  its  burdens. 
Eloquent  appeals  to  your  passions,  to  your  state  pride,  to  your 


FIFTH    BOOK.  319 

native  courage,  to  your  sense  of  real  injury,  ■were  used  to  pre- 
pare you  for  the  period  when  the  mask  which  concealed  the 
hideous  features  of  disunion,  should  be  taken  oflF.  It  fell,  and 
you  were  made  to  look  with  complacency  on  objects  which,  not 
long  since,  you  would  have  regarded  with  horror. 

3.  Look  back  at  the  acts  which  have  brought  you  to  this 
state, — look  forward  to  the  consequences,  to  which  it  must 
inevitably  lead.  Something  more  is  necessary.  Contemplate 
the  condition  of  that  country,  of  which  you  still  form  an  im- 
portant part ! — consider  its  government,  uniting  in  one  bond  of 
common  interest  and  general  protection,  so  many  different 
states, — giving  to  all  their  inhabitants  the  proud  title  of  Amer- 
ican CITIZENS, — protecting  their  commerce, — securing  their 
literature  and  their  arts, — facilitating  their  intercommunication, 
— defending  their  frontiers, — and  making  their  name  respected 
in  the  remotest  parts  of  the  earth ! 

4.  Consider  the  extent  of  its  territory,  its  increasing  and 
happy  population,  its  advance  in  arts  which  render  life  agree- 
able, and  the  sciences  which  elevate  the  mind !  See  education 
spreading  the  lights  of  religion,  humanity,  and  general  infor- 
mation, into  every  cottage  in  this  wide  extent  of  our  territories 
and  states  !  Behold  it,  as  the  asylum  where  the  wretched  and 
the  oppressed  find  refuge  and  support !  Look  on  this  picture 
of  happiness  and  honor,  and  say : — "  We,  too,  are  citizens  of 
America  ;  Carolina  is  one  of  these  proud  states ;  her  arms 
have  defended, — ^her  best  blood  has  cemented  this  happy 
Union !"  And  then  add,  if  you  can,  without  horror  and  re- 
morse : — "  This  happy  Union  we  will  dissolve, — this  picture  of 
peace  and  prosperity  we  will  deface, — this  free  intercourse  we 
will  interrupt, — these  fertile  fields  we  will  deluge  with  blood, — 
the  protection  of  that  glorious  flag  we  renounce, — the  very 
name  of  Americans  we  discard." 

5.  And  for  what,  mistaken  men !  for  what  do  you  throw 
away  these  inestimable  blessings, — for  what  would  you  ex- 
change your  share  in  the  advantages  and  honor  of  the  Union  ? 
— For  the  dream  of  a  separate  independence,  a  dream  inter- 
rupted by  bloody  conflicts  with  your  neighbors,  and  a  vile  de- 


320  SANDERS'     NEW      SERIES. 

pendence  on  foreign  power  ?  If  your  leaders  could  succeed  in 
establisliing  a  separation,  what  would  be  your  situation  ?  Are 
you  united  at  home, — are  you  free  from  the  apprehensions  of 
civil  discord,  with  all  its  fearful  consequences  ?  Do  our  neigh- 
boring republics,  every  day  suflFering  some  new  revolution,  or 
contending  with  some  new  insurrection, — do  they  excite  your 
envy  ? 

6.  But  the  dictates  of  a  high  duty  oblige  me  solemnly  to 
announce  that  you  can  not  succeed.  The  laws  of  the  United 
States  must  be  executed,  I  have  no  discretionary  power  on  the 
subject, — my  duty  is  emphatically  pronounced  in  the  constitu- 
tion. Those  who  told  you  that  you  might  peaceably  prevent 
their  execution,  deceived  you, — they  could  not  have  been  de- 
ceived themselves.  They  know  that  a  forcible  opposition  could 
alone  prevent  the  execution  of  the  laws,  and  they  know  that 
such  opposition  must  be  repelled.  Their  object  is  disunion  ;  but 
be  not  deceived  by  names ;  disunion,  by  armed  force,  is  TREASoisr. 

7.  Are  you  really  ready  to  incur  its  guilt  ?  If  you  are,  on 
the  heads  of  the  instigators  of  the  act,  be  the  dreadful  conse- 
quences,— on  their  heads  be  the  dishonor,  but  on  yours  may 
fall  the  punishment, — on  your  unhappy  state  will  inevitably 
fall  all  the  evils  of  the  conflict  you  force  upon  the  government 
of  your  country.  It  can  not  accede  to  the  mad  project  of  dis- 
union, of  which  you  would  be  the  first  victims, — its  first  magis- 
trate can  not,  if  he  would,  avoid  the  performance  of  his  duty, 
— the  consequence  must  be  fearful  for  you,  distressing  to  your 
fellow-citizens  here,  and  to  the  friends  of  good  government 
throughout  the  world. 

8.  Its  enemies  have  beheld  our  prosperity  with  a  vexation 
they  could  not  conceal, — it  was  a  standing  refutation  of  their 
slavish  doctrines,  and  they  will  point  to  our  discord  with  the 
triumph  of  malignant  joy.  It  is  yet  in  your  power  to  dis- 
appoint them.  There  is  yet  time  to  show  that  the  de- 
scendants of  the  Pinckneys,''  the  Sumters,^  the  Rutledges, 
and  of  the  thousand  other  names  which  adorn  the  pages  of 
your  Revolutionary  history,  will  not  abandon  that  Union,  to 
support  which  so  many  of  them  fought,  and  bled,  and  died. 


FIFTHBOOK.  -  321 

9.  I  adjure  you,  as  you  honor  their  memories, — as  you  love 
the  cause  of  freedom,  to  which  they  dedicated  their  lives, — as 
you  prize  the  peace  of  your  country,  the  lives  of  its  best  citi- 
zens, and  your  own  fair  fame,  to  retrace  your  steps.  Snatch 
from  the  archives  of  your  state  the  disorganizing  edict  of  its 
convention, — bid  its  members  to  re-assemble  and  promulgate 
the  decided  expressions  of  your  will  to  remain  in  the  path  which 
alone  can  conduct  you  to  safety,  prosperity,  and  honor, — tell 
them  that,  compared  to  disunion,  all  other  evils  are  light,  be- 
cause that  brings  with  it  an  accumulation  of  all, — declare  that 
you  will  never  take  the  field  unless  the  star-spangled  banner 
of  your  country  shall  float  over  you, — that  you  will  not  be 
stigmatized  when  dead,  and  dishonored  and  scorned  while  you 
live,  as  the  authors  of  the  first  attack  on  the  constitution  of 
your  country ! 

10.  Its  destroyers  you  can  not  be.  You  may  disturb  its 
peace, — you  may  interrupt  the  course  of  its  prosperity, — you 
may  cloud  its  reputation  for  stability, — but  its  tranquillity  will 
be  restored,  its  prosperity  will  return,  and  the  stain  upon  its 
national  character  will  be  transferred  and  remain  an  eternal 
blot  on  the  memory  of  those  who  caused  the  disorder. 

11.  May  the  great  Ruler  of  nations  grant,  that  the  signal 
blessings,  with  which  he  has  favored  ours,  may  not,  by  the 
madness  of  party  or  personal  ambition,  be  disregarded  and 
lost ;  and  may  his  wise  providence  bring  those  who  have  pro- 
duced this  crisis,  to  see  the  folly,  before  they  feel  the  misery, 
of  civil  strife ;  and  inspire  a  returning  veneration  for  that  Union 
which,  if  we  may  dare  to  penetrate  His  designs,  he  has  chosen 
as  the  only  means  of  attaining  the  high  destinies,  to  which  w« 
may  reasonably  aspire. 


12.  Sweet  clime  of  my  kindred,  blest  land  of  my  birth! 
The  fairest,  the  dearest,  the  brightest  on  earth ! 
Where'er  I  roam, — howe'er  blest  I  may  be, 
My  spirit  instinctively  turns  unto  thee  ! 


322  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON  CXXU 

CHRIST   IN   THE   TEMPEST. 

J.  G.  "WHITTTEK. 

1.  Storm  on  tlie  heaving  waters  !    The  vast  sky 

Is  stooping  with  its  thunder.     Cloud  on  cloud 
Rolls  heavily  in  the  darkness,  like  a  shroud 
Shaken  by  midnight's  Angel  from  on  high, 
Through  the  thick  sea-mist,  faintly  and  afar ; 
Chorazin's  watch-light  glimmers  like  a  star, 
And,  momently,  the  ghastly  cloud-fires  play 
On  the  dark  sea-wall  of  Capernaum's  bay  ; 
And  tower  and  turret  into  light  spring  forth, 
Like  specters  starting  from  the  storm-swept  earth ; 
And  vast  and  awful.  Tabor's  mountain  form, 
Its  Titan*  forehead  naked  to  the  storm, 
Towers  for  one  instant,  full  and  clear,  and  then 
Blends  with  the  blackness  and  the  cloud  again. 

2.  And  it  is  very  terrible ! — The  roar 

Ascendeth  unto  heaven,  and  thunders  back. 

Like  the  response  of  demons,  from  the  black 
Rifts  of  the  hanging  tempest,  yawning  o'er 

The  wild  waves  in  their  torment.     Hark ! — the  cry 
Of  strong  man  in  his  peril,  piercing  through 

The  uproar  of  the  waters  and  the  sky, 
As  the  rent  bark  one  moment  rides  to  view, 
On  the  tall  billows,  with  the  thunder-cloud 
Closing  around,  above  her,  like  a  shroud. 

3.  He  stood  upon  the  reeling  deck, — His  form 

Made  visible  by  the  lightning,  and  His  brow 
"Pale,  and  uncovered  to  the  rushing  storm. 
Told  of  a  triumph  man  may  never  know, — 
Power  underived  and  mighty  : — "  Peace, — be  still  !" 

The  great  waves  heard  Him,  and  the  storm's  loud  tone 

*  Titan  means  huge.  The  Titans  were  fabled  gods,  sons  of  Coelus 
and  Terra,  heaven  and  earth.  They  were  noted  for  their  gigantic  size  and 
strength. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  323 

Went  moaning  into  silence  at  His  will ;  | 

And  the  thick  clouds,  where  yet  the  lightning  shone,  j 

And  slept  the  latent  thunder,  rolled  away  | 

Until  no  trace  of  tempest  lurked  behind,  I 

Changing,  upon  the  pinions  of  the  wind,  #  ; 

To  stormless  wanderers,  beautiful  and  gay.  j 

Dread  Ruler  of  the  tempest !  Thou,  before 

Whose  presence  boweth  the  uprisen  storm, — 
To  whom  the  waves  do  homage  round  the  shore 

Of  many  an  island's  empire  ! — if  the  form 
Of  the  frail  dust  beneath  Thine  eye,  may  claim 

Thy  Infinite  regard, — 0,  breathe  upon 
The  storm  and  darkness,  of  man's  soul  the  same 
Quiet,  and  peace,  and  humbleness,  which  came 

O'er  the  roused  waters,  where  Thy  voice  had  gone 
A  minister  of  power, — to  conquer  in  Thy  name. 


LESSON   CXXIU 
THE  CHKISTIAN  PAUPER'S  DEATH-BED. 

MBS.  SOUTHET, 

1.  (^)  Tread  softly, — bow  the  head, — 

In  reverent  silence  bow, — 
No  passing  bell  doth  toll, — 
Yet  an  immortal  soul 

Is  passing  now. 

2.  Stranger !  however  great,  j 

With  lowly  reverence  bow; 
There's  one  in  that  poor  shed, — 
One  by  that  paltry  bed, — 

Greater  than  thou. 

3.  Beneath  that  beggar's  roof, 

Lo  !  Death  doth  keep  his  state ; 
Enter, — no  crowds  attend, — 
Enter, — no  guards  defend 

This  palace  gate. 


324  SANDEKS'     NEW     SEKIES 

4.  Tliat  pavement,  damp  and  cold, 

No  smiling  courtiers  tread  ; 
One  silent  woman  stands, 
Lifting  with  meager  hands 
•  A  dying  head. 

5.  No  mingling  voices  sound,— 

An  infant  wail  alone  ; 
A  sob  suppressed, — again 
That  short,  deep  gasp,  and  then 

The  parting  groan ! 

6.  O  change  ! — O  wondrous  change  !- 

Burst  are  the  prison  bars, — 
This  moment  there,  so  low, 
So  agonized,  and  now 

Beyond  the  stars ! 

7.  O  change  !   stupendous  change ! — 

There  lies  the  soulless  clod  ; 
The  Sun  eternal  breats, — 
The  new  immortal  wakes, — 

Wakes  with  his  God. 


XxEssoN  cxxnu 


Explanatory  Note. — 1.  John  Quincy  Adams  died  in  the  Capitol  of 
the  United  States,  at  "Washington,  on  the  23rd  of  Februaiy,  1848,  in  the 
81st  year  of  his  age,  having  been  seized  by  sudden  illness,  while  sitting 
at  his  desk  in  the  House  of  Representatives,  on  the  21st  of  February. 
On  the  day  following,  his  decease  was  announced  by  the  Speaker  of  the 
House,  as  follows : 

PUBLIC  ANNOUNCEMENT  OP  THE  DEATH  OP  JOHN  QUINCY 

ADAMS. 

ROBERT  C.  WINTHROP. 

1.  Gentlemen  of  the  House  of  Representatives  of  the  United 
States. — It  has  been  thouorht  fit  that  the  Chair  should  an- 
nounce  ofiicially  to  the  House,  an  event  already  known  to  the 
members  individually,  and  which  has  filled  all  our  hearts  with 
sadness.  A  seat  on  this  floor  has  been  vacated,  toward  which 
all  eyes  have  been  accustomed  to  turn  with  no  common  interest. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  325 

2.  A  voice  has  been  hushed  forever  in  this  Hall,  to  which 
all  cars  have  been  wont  to  listen  with  profound  reverence.  A 
venerable  form  has  faded  from  our  sight,  around  which  we 
have  daily  clustered  with  an  affectionate  regard.  A  name  has 
been  stricken  from  the  roll  of  the  living  statesmen  of  our  land, 
which  has  been  associated,  for  more  than  half  a  century,  with 
the  highest  civil  service,  and  the  loftiest  civil  renown. 

3.  Whatever  advanced  age,  long  experience,  great  ability, 
vast  learning,  accumulated  public  honors,  a  spotless  private 
character,  and  a  firm  religious  faith,  could  do,  to  render  any 
one  an  object  of  interest,  respect,  and  admiration,  they  had 
done  for  this  distinguished  person ;  and  interest,  respect,  and 
admiration,  are  but  feeble  terms  to  express  the  feelings,  with 
which  the  members  of  this  House  and  the  people  of  the  coun- 
try have  long  regarded  him. 

4.  After  a  life  of  eighty  years,  devoted  from  its  earliest 
maturity  to  the  public  service,  he  has,  at  length,  gone  to  his 
rest.  He  has  been  privileged  to  die  at  his  post ;  to  fall  w^hile 
in  the  discharge  of  his  duties;  to  expire  beneath  the  roof  of 
the  Capitol ;  and  to  have  his  last  scene  associated  forever,  in 
history,  with  the  birthday  of  that  illustrious  Patriot,*  whose 
just  discernment  brought  him  first  into  the  service  of  his 
country. 

5.  The  close  of  such  a  life,  under  such  circumstances,  is  not 
an  event  for  unmingled  emotions.  We  can  not  find  it  in  our 
hearts  to  regret,  that  he  has  died  as  he  has  died.  He  himself 
could  have  desired  no  other  end.  "  This  is  the  end  of  earth," 
were  his  last  words,  uttered  on  the  day,  on  which  he  fell.  But 
we  might  almost  hear  him  exclaiming,  as  he  left  us, — in  a  lan- 
guage hardly  less  familiar  to  him  than  his  native  tongue  : — 
"  Hoc  est,  nimirum,  magis  feliciter  de  vita  migrare,  quam 
morir\ 


*  Washington-,  who  was  born  on  the  22nd  of  February,  1732.  While 
President  he  appointed  Mr.  Adams  a  resident  minister  to  the  United 
Netherlands,  in  the  year  1*IM. 

\  This  is,  indeed,  rather  a  happy  departiire  from  life,  than  a  mere  death. 


326  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON   CXXIY* 

Explanatory  Note. — 1.  After  an  address  by  Mr.  Hudson  of  Massa- 
chusetts, giving  a  brief  account  of  Mr.  Adams'  life,  Mr.  Holmes  of  South 
Carolina  rose  and  delivered  the  following  address. 

EULOGY    ON    THE    LIFE    AND    SERVICES    OP    JOHN 

QUINCT  ADAMS. 

holmes. 

1.  Mr.  Speaker  : — The  mingled  tones  of  sorrow,  like  the 
voice  of  many  waters,  have  come  unto  us  from  a  sister  State, 
— Massachusetts  weeping  for  her  honored  son.  The  State  I 
have  the  honor  in  part  to  represent,  once  endured,  with  yours, 
a  common  suffering,  battled  for  a  common  cause,  and  rejoiced 
in  a  common  triumph.  Surely,  then,  it  is  meet  tiat  in  this, 
the  day  of  your  affliction,  we  should  mingle  our  griefs. 

2.  When  a  great  man  falls,  the  nation  mourns ;  when  a  pa- 
triarch is  removed,  the  people  weep.  Ours,  my  associates,  is 
no  common  bereavement.  The  chain  which  linked  our  hearts 
with  the  gifted  spirits  of  former  times,  has  been  rudely  snapped. 
The  lips  from  which  flowed  those  living  and  glorious  truths 
that  our  fathers  uttered,  are  closed  in  death  ! 

3.  Yes ;  my  friends,  Death  has  been  among  us  !  He  has  not 
entered  the  humble  cottage  of  some  unknown,  ignoble  peas- 
ant ;  he  has  knocked  audibly  at  the  palace  of  a  nation  !  His 
footstep  has  been  heard  in  the  Hall  of  State !  He  has  cloven 
down  his  victim  in  the  midst  of  the  councils  of  a  people  !  He 
has  borne  in  triumph  from  among  you,  the  gravest,  wisest, 
most  reverend  head  !  Ah  !  he  has  taken  him,  as  a  trophy,  who 
was  once  chief  over  many  States,  adorned  with  virtue,  and 
learning,  and  truth  ;  he  has  borne,  at  his  chariot-wheels,  a  re- 
nowned one  of  the  earth. 

4.  There  was  no  incident  in  the  birth,  the  life,  the  death  of 
Mr.  Adams,  not  intimately  woven  with  the  history  of  the  land. 
Born  in  the  night  of  his  country's  tribulation,  he  heard  the 
first  murmurs  of  discontent, — he  saw  the  first  efibrts  for  de- 
liverance. While  yet  a  little  child,  he  listened  with  eagerness 
to  the  whispers  of  freedom,  as  they  breathed  from  the  lips  of 
her  almost  inspired  apostles  ;  he  caught  the  fire  that  was  then 


FIFTH     BOOK.  327 

kindled ;  his  eye  beamed  with  the  first  ray ;  he  watched  the 
day-spring  from  on  high,  and  long  before  he  departed  from 
earth,  it  was  graciously  vouchsafed  unto  him  to  behold  the  ef- 
fulgence of  her  noontide  glory. 

5.  His  father  saw  the  promise  of  the  son,  and  early  led  him 
by  the  hand  to  drink  of  the  very  fountains  of  light  and  liberty 
itself.  His  youthful  thoughts  were  kindled  with  the  idealism 
of  a  republic,  whose  living  form  and  features  he  was  destined 
to  behold  visibly.  Removed,  at  an  early  age,  to  a  distant  coun- 
try, he  there,  under  the  eye  of  his  father,  was  instructed  in  the 
rigid  lore  of  a  Franklin.  His  intellect  was  expanded  by  the 
conversations,  and  invigorated  by  the  acute  disquisitions  of  the 
Academicians,  whose  fiery  zeal,  even  at  that  early  period,  was 
waking  up  the  mind  of  France  to  deeper  thoughts,  bolder  in- 
quiries, and  more  matured  reflection, — to  result  ultimately,  as 
we  all  know,  in  terrific  action. 

6.  Returning  to  this  country,  he  entered  into  the  cool  clois- 
ters of  the  college ;  passed  through  the  various  stages  to  ac- 
quire that  discipline  of  mind,  which  intense  study  can  alone 
impart ;  and  thence,  sfi  he  was  about  to  emerge,  appeared  those 
buds  of  promise,  which  soon  blossomed  into  those  blushing 
honors  he  afterward  wore  so  thick  around  him.  His  was  not 
the  dreamy  life  of  the  schools ;  but  he  leaped  into  the  arena  of 
activity,  to  run  a  career  of  glorious  emulation  with  the  gifted 
spirits  of  the  earth. 

Y.  He  saw  the  efforts  to  place  his  country  on  a  deep  and 
stable  foundation,  where  it  now  rests.  He  had  seen  the  col- 
onies emerge  into  States,  and  the  States  cemented  into  Union, 
and  realized,  in  the  formation  of  this  confederated  Republic, 
all  that  his  ardent  hopes  had  pictured  out  in  the  recesses  of 
schools.  Young  as  he  then  was,  he  contributed  by  the  energy 
of  his  mind,  and  the  vigor  of  his  pen,  to  support  the  adminis- 
tration of  Washington,  who  transferred  him,  at  an  early  age, 
to  a  foreign  court ;  scarcely  initiated  into  its  diplomacy,  before 
his  services  were  required  for  another  and  a  more  extended 
sphere. 

8.  Passing  from  that,  he  returned  to  his  own  country,  and 


828  SANDEES'    NEW    SERIES. 

was  placed  by  the  suffrages  of  his  State  in  the  chamber  at  the 
other  end  of  this  Capitol ;  and  there,  the  activity  of  his  mind, 
the  freedom  of  his  thought,  the  independence  of  his  action, 
rendered  him  to  his  constituents,  for  the  time  being,  unaccept- 
able, by  uniting  him  to  the  policy  of  Mr.  Jefferson.  He  re- 
tired from  the  halls  of  Congress ;  but  he  went  to  no  ignoble 
ease.  "Wearied  with  the  toils,  heated  with  the  contests,  cov- 
ered with  the  dust  of  politics,  he  withdrew  to  the  classic  groves 
;'of  Cambridge,  and  there  he  bathed  his  weary  mind  in  the  pure 
stream  of  intellectual  rest.* 

9.  Purified,  refreshed,  invigorated,  he  came  forth,  after  se- 
vere study  and  devout  prayer,  to  do  his  country  service.  He 
was  sent  immediately  to  Russia,  not  to  repose  amidst  the  lux- 
uries of  courts,  or  in  rich  saloons,  amidst  the  glitter  of  lights 
and  the  swell  of  voluptuous  music,  but  to  watch  the  swell  and 
play  of  those  shadowy  billows,  with  which  all  Europe  heaved 
beneath  the  throes  of  the  great  heart  of  France. 

10.  Mr.  Adams  saw  and  felt  that  the  pulse  of  freedom,  day 
by  day,  beat  feebler  and  feebler  throughout  the  continent.  He 
counseled  the  ministers  of  Eussia.  He  was  one  of  those  that 
stimulated  them  to  wake  from  their  torpor,  and  he  had  the 
satisfaction  to  behold,  from  the  frozen  regions  of  the  north, 
those  mighty  hordes  pour  out  upon  the  sunny  nations  of  the 
south,  to  give  deliverance  to  People,  States,  and  Powers.  His 
own  country  demanded  his  services,  and  he  became,  with  Gal- 
latin and  Clay,  a  mediator  of  that  peace  between  two  nations, 
which  we  trust  shall  exist  forever,  while  the  only  contests  shall 
be  those  of  good-will  on  earth  and  mutual  brotherhood. 

11.  He  went, — as  his  father  had  gone  after  the  first  war  of 
the  Revolution, — upon  the  termination  of  the  second  war,  to 
the  Court  of  St.  James.  He  remained  not  long  before  another 
sphere  was  opened  to  him.  As  Secretary  of  State  for  eight 
years,  he  fulfilled  the  arduous  duties,  incident  to  that  high 
post,  in  a  country  just  emerging  from  conflict.  To  the  highest 
ofiice  of  the  people  he  was  quickly  raised ;  and  how,  in  that 

*  After  resigning  the  office  of  United  States  Senator,  Mr.  Adams  was 
appointed  Professor  of  Rhetoric  in  Harvard  University,  Cambridge.. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  829 

sphere,  he  moved,  with  what  ease,  ability,  and  grace,  wo  all 
know  ;  and  history  will  record, — he  crushed  no  heart  beneath  the 
rude  grasp  of  proscription  ;  he  left  no  heritage  of  widows'  cries 
or  orphan^  tears.  . 

12.  He  disrobed  himself  with  dignity  of  the  vestures  of 
office,  not  to  retire  to  the  shades  of  Quincy  ;  but,  in  the  matu- 
rity of  his  intellect,  in  the  vigor  of  his  thought,  to  leap  into 
this  arena,  and  tp  continue,  as  he  had  begun,  a  disciple,  an  ar- 
dent devotee  at  the  temple  of  his  country's  freedom.  How, 
in  this  department,  he  ministered  to  his  country's  wants,  w^e 
all  know,  and  have  witnessed.  How  often  we  have  crowded  into 
that  aisle,  and  clustered  around  that  now  vacant  desk,  to  listen 
to  the  counsels  of  wisdom,  as  they  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  ven- 
erable Sage,  we  can  all  remember,  for  it  Avas  but  of  yesterday. 
But  what  a  change  !  How  wondrous  !  how  sudden  !  'Tis  like 
a  vision  of  the  nio-ht.  That  form  which  we  beheld  but  a  few 
clays  since,  is  now  cold  in  death  ! 

13.  But  the  last  Sabbath,  and  in  this  Hall  he  worshiped 
with  others.  Now  his  spirit  mingles  with  the  noble  army  of 
martyrs,  and  the  just  made  perfect  in  the  eternal  adoration  of 
the  living  God.  With  him  "  this  is  the  end  of  earth,"  He 
sleeps  the  sleep  that  knows  no  waking.  He  is  gone, — and  for- 
ever !  The  sun  that  ushers  in  the  morn  of  that  next  holy  day, 
while  it  gilds  the  lofty  dome  of  the  Capitol,  shall  rest,  with 
soft  and  mellow  light,  upon  the  consecrated  spot,  beneath 
whose  turf  forever  lies  the  Patriot  Father  and  the  Patriot 
Sage  ! 


LESSON  CXXV* 

WHAT    IS    LIFE? 

JOHN  CLARK. 

1.  And  what  is  Life  ?     An  hour-glass  on  the  run, 
A  mist  retreating  from  the  morning  sun, 
A  busy,  bustling,  still  repeated  dream. 

Its  length  ?     A  minute's  pause,  a  moment's  thought. 
And  Happiness  ?     A  bubble  on  the  stream, 

That,  in  the  act  of  seizing,  shrinks  to  naught. 


S30  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

2.  And  wliat  is  Hope  ?     The  puffing  gale  of  morn, 
That  robs  each  flow'ret  of  its  gem, — and  dies  ; 
A  cobweb,  hiding  disappointment's  thorn, 

"Which  stings  more  keenly  through  the  thin  disguise. 

S.  And  what  is  Death  ?     Is  still  the  cause  unfound  ? 
That  dark  mysterious  name  of  horrid  sound  ? 

A  long  and  lingering  sleep  the  weary  crave, 
And  Peace  ?     Where  can  its  happiness  abound  ? 

Nowhere  '^t  all,  save  Heaven  and  the  grave. 

4.  Then  what  is  Life  ?  when  stripped  of  its  disguise, 

A  thing  to  be  desired  it  can  not  be ; 
Since  every  thing  that  meets  our  gazing  eyes, 

Gives  proof  sufficient  of  its  vanity. 
'Tis  but  a  trial  all  must  undergo, 

To  teach  unthankful  mortals  how  to  prize 
That  happiness  vain  man's  denied  to  know, 

Until  he's  called  to  claim  it  in  the  skies. 


LESSON   CXXVI* 

FAREWELL  OF  THE  SOUL  TO  THE  BODY. 

MRS.  SIGOXniNBT. 

1.  Companion  dear !  the  hour  draws  nigh, 
The  sentence  speeds, — to  die,  to  die  ! 
So  long  in  mystic  union  held, 

So  close  with  strong  embrace  compelled, 
How  canst  thou  bear  the  dread  decree, 
That  strikes  thy  clasi^ing  nerves  from  me  \ 
To  Him  who  on  this  mortal  shore, 
The  same  encircling  vestment  wore, 
To  Him  I  look,  to  Him  I  bend, 
To  Him  thy  shuddering  frame  commend. 

2.  If  I  have  ever  caused  thee  pain, — 

The  throbbing  breast,  the  burning  brain, — 

With  cares  and  vigils  turned  thee  pale. 

And  scorned  thee  when  thy  strength  did  fail, — 


i'  I  r  T  ii     BOOK,  331 

Forgive  ! — Forgive ! — thy  task  dotli  cease, 
Friend  !  Lover  !  let  us  part  in  peace. 

3.  If  thou  didst  sometimes  check  my  force, 
Or,  trifling,  stay  mine  upward  course. 
Or  lure  from  Heaven  my  wavering  trust, 
Or  bow  my  drooping  wing  to  dust, — 
I  blame  thee  not,  the  strife  is  done, 
I  knew  thou  wast  the  weaker  one, 
The  vase  of  earth,  the  trembling  clod 
Constrained  to  hold  the  breath  of  God. 

4.  "Well  hast  thou  in  my  service  wrought, — 
Thy  brow  hath  mirrored  forth  my  thought ; 
To  wear  my  smile  thy  lip  hath  glowed  ; 
Thy  tear,  to  speak  my  sorrows,  flowed  ; 
Thine  ear  hath  borne  me  rich  supplies 
Of  sweetly  varied  melodies  ; 
Thy  hands  my  prompted  deeds  have  done  ; 
Thy  feet  upon  my  errands  run, — 
Yes,  thou  hast  marked  my  bidding  well, 
Faithful  and  true  !     Farewell,  farewell ! 

5.  Go  to  thy  rest.     A  quiet  bed 
Meek  mother  Earth  with  flowers  shall  spread, 
Where  I  no  more  thy  sleep  may  break 
With  fevered  dream,  nor  rudely  wake 
Thy  wearied  eye. 

6.  0,  quit  thy  hold ! 
For  thou  art  faint,  and  chill,  and  cold  ; 
And  long  thy  grasp  and  groan  of  pain, 
Have  bound  me  pitying  in  thy  chain  : 
Though  angels  urge  me  hence  to  soar, 
Where  I  shall  share  thine  ills  no  more. 

7.  Yet  we  shall  meet.     To  soothe  thy  pain, 
Remember, — we  shall  meet  again. 
Quell  with  this  hope  the  victor's  sting. 
And  keep  it  as  a  signet-ring  ; 


332  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

When  tlie  dire  worm  shall  pierce  thy  breast, 
And  naught  but  ashes  mark  thy  rest, — 
When  stars  shall  fall,  and  skies  grow  dark. 
And  proud  suns  quench  thy  glow-worm  spark, 
Keep  thou  that  hope,  to  light  thy  gloom, 
Till  the  last  trumpet  rends  the  tomb. 

8.  Then  shalt  thou  glorious  rise,  and  fair, 
Nor  spot,  nor  stain,  nor  wrinkle  bear, 
And  I  with  hovering  wing  elate. 
The  bursting  of  thy  bonds  shall  wait, 
And  breathe  the  welcome  of  the  sky  : — 
"  No  more  to  part,  no  more  to  die. 
Co-heir  of  Immortality." 


LESSON  CXXVIU 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Mar'  a  thon  was  a  village  ten  miles  from 
Athens,  celebrated  for  the  decisive  victory  which  Ten  Thomand  Atheni- 
ans, under  Miltiades,  gained  over  Three  hundred  thousand  Persians,  490 
years  before  Christ. 

2.  Tay  ge'  tus  is  a  mountain  of  Laconia,  the  province  of  Greece,  in 
which  Sparta  is  located.  It  anciently  abounded  with  various  kinds  of 
beasts,  and  furnished  a  beautifiil  green  marble. 

EXAMPLES   OF   AMERICAN  PATRIOTISM. 

EVERETT. 

1.  The  national  character,  in  some  of  its  most  important 
elements,  must  be  formed,  elevated,  and  strengthened,  from 
the  materials  which  history  presents.  Are  we  to  be  ever  ring- 
ing the  changes  upon  Marathon'  and  Thermopylae  ;  and  going 
back  to  find  in  obscure  texts  of  Greek  and  Latin  the  great  ex- 
emplars of  patriotic  virtue  ?  I  rejoice  that  we  can  find  them 
nearer  home, — in  our  own  country, — on  our  own  soil ; — that 
strains  of  the  noblest  sentiment,  that  ever  swelled  in  the  breast 
of  man,  are  breathing  to  us  out  of  every  page  of  our  country's 
history,  in  the  native  eloquence  of  our  mother  tongue ; — that 
the  colonial  and  the  provincial  councils  of  America,  exhibit  to 
us  models  of  the  spirit  and  character  which  gave  Greece  and 


FIFTH     BOOK.  333 

Rome  tlieiv  name  and  their  praise  among  tlie  nations.  Here 
we  ought  to  go  for  our  instruction  ;  the  lesson  is  plain,  it  is 
clear,  it  is  applicable. 

2.  When  we  go  to  ancient  history,  we  are  bewildered  with 
the  difference  of  manners  and  institutions.  We  are  willing  to 
pay  our  tribute  of  applause  to  the  memory  of  Leonidas  who 
fell  nobly  for  his  country,  in  the  face  of  the  foe.  But  when 
we  trace  him  to  his  home,  we  are  confounded  at  the  reflection, 
that  the  same  Spartan  heroism,  to  which  he  sacrificed  himself 
at  Thermopylae,  would  have  led  him  to  tear  bis  only  child,  if 
it  happened  to  be  a  sickly  babe, — the  very  object,  for  which 
all  that  is  kind  and  good  in  man,  rises  up  to  plead, — from  the 
bosom  of  its  mother,  and  carry  it  out  to  be  eaten  by  the  wolves 
of  Taygetus.'  We  feel  a  glow  of  admiration  at  the  heroism 
displayed  at  Marathon  by  the  ten  thousand  champions  of  in- 
vaded Greece ;  but  we  can  not  forget  that  the  tenth  part  of 
the  number  were  slaves,  unchained  from  the  work-shops  and 
door-posts  of  their  masters,  to  go  and  fight  the  battles  of 
freedom. 

3.  I  do  not  mean  that  these  examples  are  to  destroy  the  in- 
terest, with  which  we  read  the  history  of  ancient  times ;  they 
possibly  increase  that  interest,  by  the  singular  contrast  they 
exhibit.  But  they  do  warn  us,  if  we  need  the  warning,  to 
seek  our  great  practical  lessons  of  patriotism  at  home, — out  of 
the  exploits  and  sacrifices,  of  which  our  own  country  is  the 
theater, — out  of  the  characters  of  our  own  fathers.  The'n  we 
know,  the  high-souled,  natural,  unaffected,  the  citizen  hcioes, 

4.  We  know  what  happy  firesides  they  left  for  the  cheerless 
camp.  We  know  with  what  pacific  habits  they  dared  the 
perils  of  the  field.  There  is  no  mystery,  no  romance,  no  mad- 
ness, under  the  name  of  chivalry,  about  them.     It  is  all  reso- 

*lute,  manly  resistance, — ^for  conscience  and  liberty's  sake, — not 
merely  of  an  overwhelming  power,  but  of  all  the  force  of  long- 
rooted  habits,  and  the  native  love  of  order  and  peace. 


5.  Our  national  existence  has  been  quite  long  enough,  and 
its  events  suflBcieutly  various,  to  prove  the  value  and  perma 


834  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

nence  of  our  civil  and  political  establishments,  to  dissipate  the 
doubts  of  their  friends,  and  to  disappoint  the  hopes  of  their 
enemies.  Our  past  history  is  to  us  the  pledge,  the  earnest, 
the  type  of  the  greater  future.  We  may  read  in  it  the  for- 
tunes of  our  descendants,  and,  with  an  assured  confidence,  look 
forward  to  a  long  and  continued  advance  in  all  that  can  make 
a  people  great. 

6.  If  this  is  a  theme  full  of  proud  thoughts,  it  is  also  one 
that  should  penetrate  us  with  a  deep  and  solemn  sense  o! 
duty.  Our  humblest,  honest  efforts  to  perpetuate  the  liber- 
ties, or  animate  the  patriotism  of  this  people,  to  purify  their 
morals,  or  to  excite  their  genius,  will  be  felt  long  after  us,  in  a 
widening  and  more  widening  sphere,  until  they  reach  a  distant 
posterity,  to  whom  our  very  names  may  be  unknown.  Every 
swelling  wave  of  our  increasing  population,  as  it  rolls  from 
the  Atlantic  coast,  onward  toward  the  Pacific,  must  bear  upon 
its  bosom  the  influence  of  the  taste,  learning,  morals  and  free- 
dom of  this  generation. — Gulian  C.  Verplanck. 


-♦■•-•^♦♦— 


LESSON   cxxvnu 

FREEDOM'S   SONG. 

0.    W.    SANDERS. 

1.  All  hail  the  day  of  Fkeedom's  birth, 
Its  fame  be  echoed  round  the  earth  ; 
Till  ev'ry  nation  'neath  the  sun. 

Has  learned  the  name  of  Washington. 

2.  Oppression's  power  our  sires  repelled, 
And  from  our  land  the  foe  expelled ; 
They  rallied  forth  to  victory. 

And  shouted  : — "  Ood  and  Liberty  /" 

3.  Our  flag  floats  proudly  o'er  the  seas. 
Her  stripes  and  stars — on  every  breeze; 
Yet  gallant  sons  of  freemen  bold. 
Shall  in  their  hands  her  standard  hold. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  335 

4.  0  may  our  country  long  possess 
Contentment,  peace,  and  happiness ! 
And  we — her  sons  and  daughters — hence, 
Be  richly  blessed  by  Providence. 

5.  Fair  Freedom  !  let  thy  ensign  wave, 
Till  stern  Oppression  finds  a  grave ; 
And  let  thy  Eagle  proudly  soar. 

Till  Tyrants'  power  is  felt  no  more. 


LESSON    CXXIX* 

THE  STAR  IN   THE   WEST. 

ELIZA  COOC- 

1.  There's  a  star  in  the  "West  that  shall  never  go  down, 

Till  the  records  of  valor  decay  ; 
"We  must  worship  its  light,  though  it  is  not  our  own,** 

For  liberty  burst  in  its  ray. 
Shall  the  name  of  a  "Washington  ever  be  heard 

By  a  freeman,  and  thrill  not  his  breast  ? 
Is  there  one  out  of  bondage  that  hails  not  the  word 

As  the  Bethlehem  star  of  the  West  ? 

2.  "  "War,  war  to  the  knife !  be  inthralled  or  ye  die," 

"Was  the  echo  that  woke  in  his  land  ; 
But  it  was  not  his  voice  that  promoted  the  cry, 

Nor  his  madness  that  kindled  the  brand. 
He  raised  not  his  arm,  he  defied  not  his  foes, 

"While  a  leaf  of  the  olive  remained  ; 
Till  goaded  with  insult,  his  spirit  arose 

Like  a  long-baited  lion  unchained. 

3.  He  struck  with  firm  courage  the  blow  of  the  brave, 

But  sighed  o'er  the  carwage  that  spread ; 
He  indignantly  trampled  the  yoke  of  the  slave, 

But  wept  for  the  thousands  that  bled. 
Though  he  threw  back  the  fetters,  and  headed  the  strife, 

Till  man's  charter  was  fairly  restored  ; 

*  The  -wTiter  of  this  piece  is  a  native  of  England. 


336  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Yet  he  prayed  for  the  moment  wlien  freedom  and  life 
Would  no  longer  be  pressed  by  the  sword. 

H.  Oh !  his  laurels  were  pure ;  and  his  patriot-name 

In  the  page  of  the  future  shall  dwell, 
And  be  seen  in  all  annals,  the  foremost  in  fame, 

By  the  side  of  a  Hofer  and  Tell. 
Revile  not  my  song ;  for  the  wise  and  the  good 

Among  Britons  have  nobly  confessed, 
That  his  was  the  glory,  and  ours  was  the  blood 

Of  the  deeply-stained  field  of  the  West. 


LESSON   CXXX* 

EzpLANATORT  NoTES. — 1.  CiN  GIN  ka'  tus  was  a  celebrated  Roman,  who 
was  informed,  as  he  plowed  his  field,  that  the  Senate  had  chosen  him 
Dictator.  Upon  this,  he  left  his  plow  with  regret,  and  repaired  to  the  field 
of  battle,  where  his  countrymen  were  closely  besieged.  He  conquered  , 
their  enemies,  and  returned  to  Rome  in  triumph ;  and  in  sixteen  days  af- 
ter his  appointment,  he  laid  down  his  of&ce  and  returned  again  to  his  plow. 
In  his  80th  year  he  was  again  summoned  as  Dictator,  and,  after  a  suc- 
cessful campaign,  he  resigned  the  absolute  power  he  had  enjoyed  only 
twenty-one  days,  nobly  disregarding  the  rewards  that  were  offered  hua 
by  the  Senate. 

2.  Cur'  ran  was  a  celebrated  Irish  orator. 

PLEA  FOR   IRELAND. 

PHILLIPS. 

1.  Come  and  see  this  unhappy  people, — see  the  Irishman, 
the  only  alien  in  Ireland,  in  rags  and  wretchedness,  staining 
the  sweetest  scenery  ever  eye  reposed  upon,  persecuted  by  the 
extorting  middleman  of  some  absentee  landlord,  plundered  by 
the  law-proctor  ol  some  rapacious  and  unsympathizing  incum- 
bent, bearing  through  life  but  insults  and  injustice,  and  be- 
reaved even  of  any  hope  in  death  by  the  heart-rending  reflec- 
tion, that  he  leaves  his  children  to  bear,  like  their  father,  an 
abominable  bondage. 

2.  Is  it  the  fact  ?  Let  any  who  doubts  it  walk  out  into 
your  streets,  and  see  the  consequences  of  such  a  system ;  see 
it  rearing  up  crowds  in  a  kind  of  apprenticeship  to  the  prison. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  337 

aosolutely  permitted  by  tlieir  parents,  from  utter  despair,  to 
\isp  the  alphabet  and  learn  the  rudiments  of  profligacy.  For 
my  part,  never  did  I  meet  one  of  these  youthful  assemblages, 
■without  feeling  within  me  a  melancholy  emotion. 

3.  How  often  have  I  thought,  within  that  little  circle  of 
neglected  triflers,  who  seem  to  have  been  born  in  caprice  and 
bred  in  orphanage,  there  may  exist  some  mind  formed  of  the 
finest  mold,  and  wrought  for  immortality ;  a  soul  swelling 
with  the  energies,  and  stamped  with  the  patent  of  the  Deity, 
which,  under  proper  culture,  might,  perhaps,  bless,  adorn,  im- 
mortalize, or  ennoble  empires ;  some  Cincinnatus,'  in  whose 
breast  the  destinies  of  a  nation  may  lie  dormant ;  some  Mil- 
ton, "  pregnant  with  celestial  fire  ;"  some  Curran,"  who,  when 
thrones  were  crumbled  and  dynasties  forgotten,  might  stand, 
the  landmark  of  his  country's  genius,  rearing  himself  amid  re- 
gal ruins  and  national  dissolution,  a  mental  pyramid  in  the  soli- 
tude of  time,  beneath  whose  shade  things  might  molder,  and 
round  whose  summit  eternity  must  play !  Even  in  such  a 
circle  the  young  Demosthenes  might  have  once  been  found : 
and  Homer,  the  disgrace  and  glory  of  his  age,  have  sung  neg- 
lected. 

4.  Have  not  other  nations  witnessed  those  things,  and  who 
shall  say  that  nature  has  peculiarly  degraded  the  intellect  of 
Ireland  ?  O,  my  countrymen,  let  us  hope  that  under  better 
auspices  and  sounder  policies,  the  ignorance  that  thinks  so, 
may  meet  its  refutation  !  Let  us  turn  from  the  blight  and  ruin 
of  this  wintery  day  to  the  fond  anticipation  of  a  happier  pe- 
riod, when  our  prostrate  land  shall  stand  erect  among  the  na- 
tions, fearless  and  unfettered;  her  brow  blooming  with  the 
wreath  of  science,  and  her  path  strewed  with  the  offerings  of 
art ;  the  breath,  of  heaven  blessing  her  flag,  the  extremities  of 
earth  acknowledging  her  name,  her  fields  waving  with  the 
fruits  of  agriculture,  her  ports  alive  with  the  contributions  of 
commerce,  and  her  temples  vocal  with  imrestricted  piety ! 

5.  Suchjs  the  ambition  of  the  true  patriot;  such  are  the 
views,  for  which  we  are  calumniated  !  O  divine  ambition !  O 
delightful  calumny!     fiappy  he  who   shall  see  thee  accota- 

16 


338  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

plished  !  Happy  he  who,  through  every  peril,  toils  for  thy  at- 
tainment !  Proceed,  friend  of  Ireland  and  partaker  of  her 
wrongs,  proceed  undaunted  to  this  glorious  consummation. 

6.  Fortune  will  not  gild,  power  will  not  ennoble  thee  ;  but 
thou  shalt  be  rich  in  the  love,  and  titled  by  the  blessings  of 
thy  country ;  thy  path  shall  be  illumined  by  the  public  eye ; 
thy  labors  enlightened  by  the  public  gratitude ;  and  O,  re- 
member,— amid  the  impediments,  with  which  corruption  will 
oppose,  and  the  dejection,  with  which  disappointments  may 
depress  you, — remember  you  are  acquiring  a  name  to  be 
cherished  by  the  future  generations  of  earth,  long  after  it  has 
been  enrolled  among  the  inheritors  of  Heaven. 


♦  «  ♦ « » 


LESSON   CXXXU 
MORAL   CULTURE. 

1.  What  deep  and  unfathomable  meaning  dwells  m  the 
words,  veracity,  benevolence,  justice,  duty !  Attaching  to  us 
in  our  early  childhood ;  following  us  through  every  waking 
moment  of  our  lives,  with  the  imposition  of  ever-renewing 
commands ;  attaching  to  us  in  the  narrowness  of  the  domestic 
circle,  yet,  as  our  knowledge  and  our  relations  expand  to  fill 
up  larger  and  larger  circles  ;  fastening  new  obligations  upon  us, 
commensurate  with  our  powers  of  performance ; — in  this  view, 
the  all-enfolding  law  of  morality  may  seem  to  be  a  task  and  a 
burden  ;  but,  when  we  perceive  its  consonance  to  our  nature,  its 
pure  and  inexhaustible  rewards  for  obedience,  its  power  of  im- 
parting an  all-conquering  energy,  wherever  loftiest  efforts  are 
demanded,  we  must  hail  its  authority,  as  among  our  highest 
honors  and  blessings. 

2.  For  what  slaves  are  they,  over  whom  an  enlightened 
conscience  does  not  bear  sway !  What  sovereignty  awaits 
those  who  yield  submission  to  its  dictates  !  Never  since  the 
creation  of  man,  has  there  been  a  nation  like  ours,  so  nursed  in 
its  infancy  by  the  smiles  of  Providence,  endued  with  such 
vigor  in  the  first  half  century  of  its  bSing,  and  made  capable 


FIFTHBOOK.  ■   339 

in  its  advancing  years,  at  once,  of  rising  to  such  unparalleled 
power,  and  of  making  existence  so  rich  a  boon  to  its  multitudi- 
nous members. 

3.  For  this  very  reason,  debasement  would  stand  in  appall- 
ing contrast  with  its  early  promises  ;  and  if,  through  immor- 
ality, it  inflicts  upon  itself  suicidal  Avounds,  the  pangs  of  its 
death-struggle  will  be  terrible  in  proportion  to  the  vigor  of  its 
frame  and  the  tenacity  of  its  young  life.  It  has  been  well 
said,  that  it  took  Rome  three  hundred  years  to  die.  Her  giant 
heart  still  beat,  though  corruption  festered  through  all  her 
members.  Fiercer  will  be  the  throes,  and  deeper  the  shame 
of  this  young  republic,  if,  in  the  bright  morning  of  its  days, 
and  enriched  with  all  the  beneficence  of  Heaven,  it  grows 
wanton  in  its  strength,  and  maddening  itself  with  the  cup  of 
vice,  it  perishes  basely  in  sight  of  its  high  destiny. 

4.  There  is  every  thing  in  our  institutions  to  give  (if  that 
were  possible,)  even  an  artificial  and  extraneous  value  to  up- 
right conduct,  to  nobleness  and  elevation  of  character.  Our 
institutions  demand  men,  in  whose  hearts  great  thoughts  and 
deeds  are  native,  spontaneous,  irrepressible.  And,  if  we  do  not 
have  a  generation  of  men  whose  virtues  will  save  us,  we  shall 
have  a  generation  whose  false  pretensions  to  virtue  will  ruin  us. 

5.  In  a  state  and  country  like  ours,  a  thousand  selfish  con- 
siderations tempt  men  to  become  hypocrites,  and  to  put  on  the 
outward  guises  of  morality.  Ambition  may  counsel  that 
honors  are  most  easily  won  through  honest  seemings.  Ava- 
rice may  covet  a  fair  reputation  for  its  pecuniary  value.  Pride 
and  vanity  may  look  for  regard,  without  the  worth  which  alone 
can  challenge  it.  But  all  such  supports  will  fail  in  the  hour 
of  temptation.  They  have  no  depth  of  root  in  the  moral  sen- 
timents. 

6.  The  germs  of  morahty  must  be  planted  in  the  moral  na- 
ture, in  youth, — at  an  early  period  of  life.  In  that  genial 
soil  they  will  flourish  and  gather  strength  from  surer  and 
deeper  sources  than  those  of  time-serving  policy ;  like  those 
pasture  oaks,  we  see  scattered  about  the  fields  of  the  farmers, 
which,  striking  their  roots  downward  into  the  earth  as  far  as 


340  SANDERS'    NEW    SERIES. 

their  topmost  brandies  ascend  into  the  air,  draw  nourishment 
from  perennial  fountains,  and  thereby  preserve  their  foliage 
fresh  and  green,  through  seasons  of  fiery  drouth,  when  all 
surrounding  vegetation  is  scorched  and  withered. 


Y.  To  THE  Young, — "  The  innocent  in  heart  and  soul,"  for 
whom  life  still  blooms  in  all  the  freshness  and  beauty  of  hope 
and  truth, — who  bask  in  the  bright  sunshine  of  moral  purity 
and  peace,  little  dreaming  of  the  countless  perils  which  sur- 
round them,  breathing  the  ethereal  odors  of  a  Paradise  which 
they  have  not  as  yet  forfeited, — to  them  how  earnest  should 
be  the  constant  and  most  impressive  admonition, — Avoid  the 
first  approaches  of  the  tempter ;  heed  not  for  a  wavering  mo- 
ment his  subtle  and  fatal  voice ;  wrap  yourselves  in  the  sacred 
mantle  of  your  innocence,  and  repose  in  trustful  assurance 
upon  the  promises  of  the  Author  of  your  being,  the  Dispenser 
of  the  rich  blessings,  by  which  you  are  surrounded. 

8.  The  conditions  of  present  enjoyment  and  continued  hap- 
piness, are  clearly  unfolded  to  your  mental  and  moral  percep- 
tion by  Him  who  called  you  into  existence,  and  curiously 
molded  the  constitution  of  your  being.  While  those  con- 
ditions are  faithfully  observed,  that  existence  will  prove  a  con- 
stant source  of  pleasure, — an  unfailing  well-spring  of  improve- 
ment,— a  perpetual  concord  of  sweet  and  harmonious  influ- 
ences. Around  and  about  you,  on  every  hand,  are  withered 
hopes,  blasted  expectations,  irremediable  sorrow,  fruitless  re- 
morse, pain,  anguish,  disease,  premature  decay,  and  death. 

9.  Hope  not  to  disobey  the  voice  of  God  within  your  souls, 
and  to  escape  these  dire  and  bitter  consequences  of  transgres- 
sion. The  records  of  human  experience,  from  the  creation  of 
the  world  to  the  present  hour,  furnish  not  a  solitary  instance 
of  such  an  exemption  from  the  penalty  denounced  by  the  voice 
of  the  Almighty.  Venture  not,  then,  upon  the  fearful  and 
most  presumptuous  experiment.  Walk  while  you  may,  in  the 
placid  shades  of  innocence  and  virtue;  commune  with  the 
Being  whose    presence   will  surround    you    at  all  times,  and 


FIFTH    BOOK.  841 

whose  blessing,  "  even  length  of  days  and  life  for  evermore," 
will  consecrate  and  revpard  your  obedience  to  His  perfect  laws. 

10.  "So  live,  that,  when  thy  summons  comes  to  join. 
The  innumerable  caravan  that  moves 
To  that  mysterious  realm,  where  each  shall  take 
His  chamber  in  the  silent  halls  of  death, 
Thou  go  not,  like  the  quarry-slave  at  night, 
Scourged  to  his  dungeon ;  but,  sustained  and  soothed 
By  an  unfaltering  trust,  approach  thy  grave 
Like  one  who  wraps  the  drapery  of  his  couch 
About  him,  and  lies  down  to  peaceful  dreams." 

S.  S.   RANDALL. 


I  ■   ♦  t  I 


LESSON    CXXXIU 
THE    RUINS    OF    POMPEII. 

1.  The  ancient  city  of  Pompeii,  in  the  province  of  Campania, 
in  Italy,  together  with  that  of  Herculaneum,  was  buried  by 
a  shower  of  ashes,  thrown  up  from  the  crater  of  Mount  Vesu- 
vius, in  the  famous  eruption  of  79.  The  ruins  of  Pompeii  were 
accidentally  discovered  in  the  year  1748,  and  they  have  been, 
to  a  great  extent,  disclosed  by  the  extensive  excavations  which 
have  been  made.  Streets  and  houses,  in  almost  a  perfect  state, 
have  been  brought  to  view.  A  forum,  two  theaters,  temples, 
fountains,  and  other  structures,  richly  ornamented,  have  been 
discovered,  and  from  them  have  been  taken  statues,  manu- 
scripts, paintings,  and  various  utensils,  which  contribute  exten- 
sively to  enlarge  our  notions  of  the  ancients,  and  develop  many 
classical  obscurities. 

2.  Numerous  skeletons  have  been  discovered,  though  it  is 
probable  that  many  of  the  inhabitants  escaped.  In  one  cellar 
the  skeletons  of  twenty-seven  females  were  found,  with  costly 
ornaments  for  the  neck  and  arms  scattered  around.  In  another 
apartment,  the  skeletons  of  a  master  and  slave,  were  dis- 
covered, the  former  holding  a  key  in  one  hand,  and  a  bag  of 
coins  and  precious  stones  in  the  other,  while  near  them  were 
valuable  silver  and  bronze  vessels. 


342  SANDERS'      NEW      SERIES. 

3.  In  other  times  and  in  other  places,  one  single  edifice,  a 
temple,  a  theater,  a  tomb,  that  had  escaped  the  wreck  of  ages, 
would  have  enchanted  us,  nay,  an  arch,  the  remnant  of  a  wall, 
even  one  solitary  column,  was  beheld  with  veneration  ;  but  to 
discover  a  single  ancient  house,  the  abode  of  a  Roman  in  his 
privacy,  the  scene  of  his  domestic  hours,  was  an  object  of  fond, 
but  hopeless  longing.  Here,  not  a  temple,  not  a  theater,  nor 
a  column,  nor  a  house,  but  a  whole  city  rises  before  us,  un- 
touched, unaltered,  the  very  same  as  it  was  eighteen  hundred 
years  ago,  when  inhabited  by  Romans. 

4.  We  range  through  the  same  streets,  tread  the  very  same 
pavement,  behold  the  same  walls,  enter  the  same  doors,  and 
repose  in  the  same  apartments.  We  are  surrounded  by  the 
same  objects,  and  out  of  the  same  windows  we  contemplate 
the  same  scenery.  While  you  are  wandering  through  the  aban- 
doned rooms,  you  may,  without  any  great  effort  of  imagina- 
tion, expect  to  meet  some  of  the  former  inhabitants,  or,  per- 
haps, the  master  of  the  house  himself,  and  almost  feel  like  in- 
truders who  dread  the  appearance  of  any  of  the  family. 

5.  In  the  streets  you  are  afraid  of  turning  a  corner,  lest  you 
should  jostle  a  passenger  ;  and,  on  entering  a  house,  the  least 
sound  startles,  as  if  the  proprietor  was  coming  out  of  the  back 
apartments.  The  traveler  may  long  indulge  the  illusion ;  for 
not  a  voice  is  heard,  not  even  the  sound  of  a  foot  to  disturb 
the  loneliness  of  the  place,  or  to  interrupt  his  reflections 


LESSON  cxxxnu 


Note. — The  following  is  an  extract  from  a  poem  which  obtained  tha 
Chancellor's  medal,  at  a  commencement  of  the  University  at  Cambridge, 
England. 

DESTRUCTION    OF    POMPEII. 


MAOAULAT. 


Sad  City,  gayly  dawned  thy  latest  day. 
And  poured  its  radiance  on  a  scene  as  gay. 
Then  mirth  and  music  through  Pompeii  rung ; 
Then  verdant  wreaths  on  all  her  portals  hung ; 


FIFTH     BOOK.  343 

Her  sons  witli  solemn  rite  and  jocund  lay, 

Hailed  the  glad  splendors  of  tliat  festal  day. 

With  fillets  bound  the  hoary  priests  advance, 

And  rosy  virgins  braid  the  choral  dance. 

The  rugged  warrior  here  unbends  awhile 

His  iron  front,  and  deigns  a  transient  smile  ; 

There,  frantic  with  delight,  the  ruddy  boy 

Scarce  treads  on  earth,  and  bounds  and  laughs  with  joy. 

2.  From  every  crowded  altar  perfumes  rise 
In  billowy  clouds  of  fragrance  to  the  skies. 
The  milk-white  monarch  of  the  herd  they  lead, 
"With  gilded  horns,  at  yonder  shrine  to  bleed ; 
And  while  the  victim  crops  the  broidered  plain. 
And  frisks,  and  gambols  toward  the  destined  fane, 
They  little  deem  that,  like  himself,  they  stray 
To  death,  unconscious,  o'er  a  flowery  way  ; 
Heedless,  like  him,  the  impending  stroke  await, 
And  sport  and  wanton  on  the  brink  of  fate. 

3.  What  'vails  it  that,  where  yonder  hights  aspire. 
With  ashes  piled,  and  scathed  with  rills  of  fire, 
Gigantic  phantoms  dimly  seem  to  glide,* 

In  misty  files,  along  the  mountain's  side. 

To  view  with  threatening  scowl  your  fated  lands, 

And  toward  your  city  point  their  shadowy  hands  ? 

In  vain  through  many  a  night  ye  view  from  far 

The  meteor  flag  of  elemental  war 

Unroll  its  blazing  folds  from  yonder  hight. 

In  fearful  sign  of  earth's  intestine  fight. 

4.  In  vain  Vesuvius  groaned  with  wrath  suppressed. 
And  muttered  thunder  in  his  burning  breast. 
Long  since  the  Eagle  from  that  flaming  peak, 

*  It  is  related  that  gigantic  figures  appeared  on  the  summit  of  Vesuvius, 
previous  to  the  destruction  of  Po:MPEn.  This  was  caused  doubtless  by 
the  fantastic  forms  which  the  smoke  assumed,  assisted  by  a  lively  imagi- 
nation. 


B4A  SANDEBS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Hath  soared  witli  screams  a  safer  nest  to  seek. 

Awed  by  the  infernal  beacon's  fitful  glare, 

The  howling  wolf  hath  left  his  wonted  lair. 

Man  only  mocks  the  peril.     Man  alone 

Defies  the  sulphurous  flame,  the  warning  groan. 

While  instinct,  humbler  guardian,  wakes  and  saves, 

Proud  reason  sleeps,  nor  knows  the  doom  it  braves. 

5.  But  see,  the  opening  theater  invites 
The  fated  myriads  to  its  gay  delights. 

In,  in  they  swarm,  tumultuous  as  the  roar 

Of  foaming  breakers  on  a  rocky  shore. 

The  enraptured  throng  in  breathless  transport  views 

The  gorgeous  Temple  of  the  Tragic  Muse. 

Far,  far  around  the  ravished  eye  surveys 

The  sculptured  forms  of  gods  and  heroes  blaze. 

Above,  the  echoing  roofs  the  peal  prolong 

Of  lofty  converse,  or  melodious  song  ; 

While,  as  the  tones  of  passion  sink  or  swell, 

Admiring  thousands  own  the  moral  spell. 

Melt  with  the  melting  strains  of  fancied  woe, 

With  terror  sicken,  or  with  transport  glow. 

6.  O !  for  a  voice  like  that  which  pealed  of  old 
Through  Salem's  cedar  courts  and  shrines  of  gold,* 
And,  in  wild  accents  round  the  trembling  dome. 
Proclaimed  the  havoc  of  avenging  Rome  ; 
While  every  palmy  arch  and  sculptured  tower. 
Shook  with  the  footsteps  of  the  parting  power. 
Such  voice  might  check  your  tears,  which  idly  stream 
For  the  vain  phantoms  of  the  poet's  dream, — 
Might  bid  those  terrors  rise,  those  sorrows  flow, 

For  other  perils,  and  for  nearer  woe. 

7.  The  hour  is  come.     Even  now  the  sulphurous  cloud 
Involves  the  city  in  its  funeral  shroud. 
And,  far  along  Campania's  azure  sky, 

*  Consult  the  24th  Chapter  of  Matthew. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  345 

Expands  its  dark  and  boundless  canopy. 

The  Sun,  tliough  throned  on  heaven's  meridian  Light* 

Burns  red  and  rayless  through  that  sickly  night. 

Each  bosom  felt  at  once  the  shuddering  thrill, 

At  once  the  music  stopped. — The  song  was  still. 

None  in  that  cloud's  portentous  shade  might  trace 

The  fearful  changes  of  another's  face. 

But,  through  that  horrid  stillness,  each  could  hear 

Ilis  neighbor's  throbbing  heart  beat  high  with  fear. 

8.  A  moment's  pause  succeeds.  Then  wildly  rise 
Griefs  sobbing  plaints  and  terror's  frantic  cries. 
The  gates  recoil ;  and,  toward  the  narrow  pass, 
In  wild  confusion,  rolls  the  living  mass. 

Death  ! — when  thy  shadowy  scepter  waves  away 

From  his  sad  couch  the  prisoner  of  decay. 

Though  friendship  view  the  close  with  glistening  eye, 

And  love's  fond  lips  imbibe  the  parting  sigh, 

By  torture  racked,  by  kindness  soothed  in  vain, 

The  soul  still  clings  to  being  and  to  pain. 

But  when  have  wilder  terrors  clotlied  thy  brow, 

Or  keener  torments  edged  thy  dart  than  now, — 

When  with  thy  regal  horrors  vainly  strove 

The  law  of  Nature  and  the  power  of  Love  ? 

9.  On  mothers  babes  in  vain  for  mercy  call ; 
Beneath  the  feet  of  brothers,  brothers  fall. 
Behold  the  dying  wretch  in  vain  upraise 
Toward  yonder  well-known  face  the  accusing  gaze. 
Vain  is  the  imploring  glance,  the  frenzied  cry, 
All,  all  is  fear  ; — to  succor,  is  to  die. 

Saw  ye  how  wild,  how  red,  how  broad  a  light 
Burst  on  the  darkness  of  that  mid-day  night, 
As  fierce  Vesuvius  scattered  o'er  the  vale 
Her  drifted  flames  and  sheets  of  burning  hail, 
Shook  death's  wan  lightnings  from  his  blazing  cobe. 
And  gilded  heaven  with  meteors  not  its  own  ? 


S-i6  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 


LESSON  CXXXIV, 

DESTRUCTION    OF    POMPEII.— Contintted. 

MACAULAT. 

The  morn  all  blushing  rose ;  but  sought  in  vain 
The  snowy  villas  and  the  flowery  plain, 
The  purpled  hills  with  marshaled  vineyards  gay, 
The  domes  that  sparkled  in  the  sunny  ray. 
Where  Art  or  Nature  late  had  deck'd  the  scene 
"With  blazing  marble  or  with  spangled  green. 
There,  streaked  by  many  a  fiery  torrent's  bed, 
A  boundless  waste  of  hoary  ashes  spread. 

,  Along  that  dreary  waste,  where  lately  rung 
The  festal  lay  which  smiling  virgins  sung, 
Where  rapture  echoed  from  the  warbling  lutfc, 
And  the  gay  dance  resounded, — all  is  mute. 
Mute ! — Is  it  Fancy  shapes  that  wailing  sound 
Which  faintly  murmurs  from  the  blasted  ground ; 
Or  live  there  still,  who,  breathing  in  the  tomb, 
Curse  the  dark  refuge  which  delays  their  doom, 
In  massive  vaults,  on  which  the  incumbent  plaia 
And  ruined  city  heap  their  weight  in  vain  ? 

.  Oh  !  who  may  sing  that  hour  of  mortal  strife. 
When  Nature  calls  on  Death,  yet  clings  to  life  ? 
Who  paint  the  wretch  that  draws  sepulchral  breath, 
A  living  prisoner  in  the  house  of  Death  ? 
Pale  as  the  corpse  which  loads  the  funeral  pile. 
With  face  convulsed,  that  writhes  a  ghastly  smile,  . 
Behold  him  speechless  move  with  hurried  pace, 
Incessant,  round  his  dungeon's  caverned  space, — 
Now  shrink  in  terror,  and  now  groan  in  pain, 
Gnaw  his  white  lips,  and  strike  his  burning  brain  ; 
Till  Fear  o'erstrained  in  stupor,  dies  away, 
And  Madness  wrests  her  victim  from  Dismay. 
His  arms  sink  down ;  his  wild  and  stony  eye 
Glares  without  sight  on  blackest  vacancy. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  347 

He  feels  not,  sees  not ;  wrapped  in  senseless  trance, 
His  soul  is  still  and  listless  as  his  glance. 
One  cheerless  blank,  one  rayless  mist  is  there, 
Thoughts,  senses,  passions,  live  not  with  despair. 

4.  Haste,  Famine,  haste  to  urge  the  destined  close, 
And  lull  the  horrid  scene  to  stern  repose. 

Yet  ere,  dire  Fiend,  thy  lingering  tortures  cease, 
And  all  be  hushed  in  still  sepulchral  peace, 
Those  caves  shall  wilder,  darker  deeds  behold* 
Than  e'er  the  voice  of  song  or  fable  told, — 
Whate'er  dismay  may  prompt,  or  madness  dare, 
Feasts  of  the  grave,  and  banquets  of  despair. 
Hide,  hide  the  scene  ;  and,  o'er  the  blasting  sight,    ' 
Fling  the  dark  vail  of  ages  and  of  night. 

5.  Go,  seek  Pompeii  now  : — with  pensive  tread 
Koam  through  the  silent  city  of  the  dead ; 
Explore  each  spot,  where  still,  in  ruin  grand 

Her  shapeless  piles  and  tottering  columns  stand, — 
Where  the  pale  ivy's  clasping  wreaths  o'ershade 
The  ruined  temple's  moss-clad  colonnade  ; 
Or  violets  on  the  hearth's  cold  marble  wave. 
And  muse  in  silence  on  a  people's  grave. 

6.  Fear  not. — No  sign  of  death  thine  eyes  shall  scare. 
No ;  all  is  beauty,  verdure,  fragrance  there. 

A  gentle  slope  includes  the  fatal  ground. 

With  odorous  shrubs  and  tufted  myrtles  crowned ; 

Beneath,  o'ergrown  with  grass,  or  wreathed  with  flowers. 

Lie  tombs  and  temples,  columns,  baths,  and  towers ; 

As  if,  in  mockery.  Nature  seems  to  dress 

In  all  her  charms  the  beauteous  wilderness, 

And  bids  her  gayest  flowerets  twine  and  bloom 

In  sweet  profusion  o'er  a  city's  tomb. 

Advance,  and  wander  on  through  crumbling  halls. 

Through  prostrate  gates  and  ivied  pedestals, — 

Arches,  whose  echoes  now  no  chariots  rouse, — 

Tombs,  on  whose  summit  goats  undaunted  browse. 


84:8  SANDEES'     NEW     SERIES. 

v.  Immortal  spirits,  in  whose  deathless  song, 
Latium  and  Athens  yet  their  reign  prolong. 
And,  from  their  thrones  of  fame  and  empire  hurled, 
Still  sway  the  scepter  of  the  mental  world  ; 
Whose  minds  unraveled  Nature's  mystic  plan, 
Or  traced  the  mazy  labyrinth  of  man  : — 
Bend,  glorious  spirits,  from  your  blissful  bowers, 
And  broidered  couches  of  unfading  flowers. 
While  round  your  locks  the  Elysian  garlands  blow 
With  sweeter  odors,  and  with  brighter  glow. 

8.  Once  more,  immortal  shades,  atoning  Fame 
Repairs  the  honors  of  each  glorious  name. 
Behold  Pompeii's  opening  vaults  restore 
The  long-lost  treasures  of  your  ancient  lore, 
The  vestal  radiance  of  poetic  fire, 

The  stately  buskin  and  the  tuneful  lyre, 
The  wand  of  eloquence,  whose  magic  sway 
The  scepters  and  the  swords  of  earth  obey. 
And  every  mighty  spell,  whose  strong  control 
Could  nerve  or  melt,  could  fire  or  soothe  the  soul. 

9.  And  thou,  sad  city,  raise  thy  drooping  head, 
And  share  the  honors  of  the  glorious  dead. 
Had  Fate  reprieved  thee  till  the  frozen  North 
Poured  in  wild  swarms  its  hoarded  millions  forth, 
Till  blazing  cities  marked  where  Albion  trod, 

Or  Europe  quaked  beneath  the  scourge  of  God, 
No  lasting  wreath  had  graced  thy  funeral  pall, 
No  fame  redeemed  the  horrors  of  thy  fall. 

10.  Now  shall  thy  deathless  memory  live  entwined 

With  all  that  conquers,  rules,  or  charms  the  mind, — 
Each  lofty  thought  of  Poet  or  of  Sage, 
Each  grace  of  Virgil's  lyre  or  Tully's  page. 
Like  theirs  whose  Genius  consecrates  thy  tomb, 
Thy  fame  shall  snatch  from  time  a  greener  bloom, 
Shall  spread  where'er  the  Muse  has  reared  her  throne. 
And  live  renowned  in  accents  yet  unknown. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  349 

LESSON    CXXXV* 
UNIVEESAL   PEOVIDENCE  OF  GOD. 

MELVILLE. 

1.  It  is  a  beautiful  truth,  that  there  can  not  be  the  creature 
so  insignificant,  the  care  so  inconsiderable,  the  action  so  unim- 
portant, as  to  be  overlooked  by  Him,  from  whom  we  derive 
our  being.  We  know  that  it  is  not  the  monarch  alone,  at  the 
head  of  his  tribes  and  provinces,  who  is  observed  by  the  Al- 
mighty ;  and  that  it  is  not  only  at  some  great  crisis  in  life,  that 
an  individual  becomes  an  object  of  the  attention  of  his  Maker. 

2.  We  know  rather  that  the  poorest,  the  meanest,  the  most 
despised,  shares  with  the  monarch  the  notice  of  the  universal 
Protector  ;  and  that  this  notice  is  so  unwearied  and  incessant, 
that  when  he  goes  to  his  daily  toil  or  his  daily  prayer,  when 
he  lies  down  at  night,  or  rises  in  the  morning,  or  gathers  his 
little  ones  to  the  scanty  meal,  the  poor  man  is  tenderly  watched 
by  his  God ;  and  he  can  not  weep  the  tear  which  He  sees  not, 
nor  smile  the  smile  which  He  notes  not,  nor  breathe  the  wish 
which  He  hears  not, 

3.  The  man,  indeed,  of  exalted  rank,  on  whom  may  depend 
the  movements  of  an  empire,  is  regarded  with  a  vigilance  which 
never  knows  suspense,  by  Him  *'  who  giveth  salvation  unto 
kings ;"  and  the  Lord,  "  to  whom  belong  the  shields  of  the 
earth,"  bestows  on  this  man  whatever  wisdom  he  displays,  and 
whatever  strength  he  puts  forth,  and  whatever  success  he  at- 
tains. But  the  carefulness  of  Deity  is,  in  no  sense,  engrossed 
by  the  distinguished  individual ;  but,  just  as  the  regards  which 
are  turned  on  this  earth,  interfere  not  with  those  which  pour 
themselves  over  far-off  planets  and  distant  systems,  so,  while 
the  chieftain  is  observed  and  attended  with  the  assiduousness 
of  what  might  seem  an  undivided  guardianship,  the  very  beg- 
gar is  as  much  the  object  of  Divine  inspection  and  succor,  as 
though,  in  the  broad  sweep  of  animated  being,  there  were  no 
other  to  need  the  su^aining  arm  of  the  Creator. 

4.  It  is  this  providence  which  extends  itself  to  every  house- 
hold, and  throws  itself  around  every  individual,  and  takes  pan 


350  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

in  every  business,  and  is  concerned  with  every  sorrow,  and  is 
accessory  to  every  joy.  It  encircles  equally  the  palace  and  the 
cottage ;  guiding  and  upholding  alike  the  poor  and  the  rich  ; 
ministering  to  the  king  in  his  councils,  to  the  merchant  in  his 
commerce,  to  the  scholar  in  his  study,  and  to  the  laborer  in  his 
husbandry  ;  so  that,  whatever  be  our  rank  and  occupation,  at 
no  moment  are  we  withdrawn  from  the  eye  of  Deity,  in  no 
lawful  endeavor  are  we  left  to  ourselves,  in  no  secret  anxiety 
have  we  only  our  own  heart,  with  which  to  commune.  Oh !  it 
were  to  take  from  God  all  that  is  most  encouraging  in  His  at- 
tributes and  prerogatives,  if  we  could  throw  doubt  on  this  doc- 
trine of  His  universal  providence. 

5.  And  we  seem  to  have  drawn  a  picture  which  is  calculated 
equally  to  raise  astonishment  and  delight,  to  produce  the  deep- 
est reverence,  and  yet  the  fullest  confidence,  when  we  have 
represented  God  as  superintending  whatever  occurs  in  His  in- 
finite domain, — guiding  the  roll  of  every  planet,  the  rush  of 
every  cataract,  the  gathering  of  every  cloud,  and  the  motion 
of  every  will ;  and  when,  in  order  that  the  delineation  may 
have  all  that  exquisiteness  which  is  only  to  be  obtained  from 
those  home-touches,  which  assure  us  that  we  have  ourselves 
an  interest  in  what  is  so  splendid  and  surprising,  we  have 
the  assurance  that  He  is  with  the  sick  man  on  his  pallet, 
with  the  seaman  in  his  danger,  and  with  the  widow  in  her 
agony. 

6.  If  we  would  exhibit  God  as  so  attending  to  what  is 
mighty,  as  not  to  overlook  what  is  lowly,  what  better  can  we 
do  than  declare  Him  mustering  around  Him  the  vast  army  of 
suns  and  constellations,  and  all  the  while  hearkening  to  every 
cry  which  goes  up  from  an  afilicted  creation ; — and,  is  not  this 
the  very  picture  sketched  by  the  Psalmist,  when,  after  the  sub- 
lime ascription  :  "  Thy  kingdom  is  an  everlasting  kingdom,  and 
thy  dominion  endureth  throughout  all  generations,"  he  adds 
the  comforting  words  :  "  the  Lord  upholdeth  all  that  fall,  and 
lifteth  up  all  those  that  be  bowed  down  ?% 

v.  God  is  that  mysterious  Being,  to  whom  the  only  great 
thing  is  Himself.     And,  therefore,  when  "  the  eyes  of  all  wait 


FIFTH     BOOK.  351 

upon  him,"  the  seraph  gains  not  attention  by  his  gaze  of  fire, 
and  the  insect  loses  it  not  through  feebleness  of  vision.  Arch- 
angel and  angel,  man  and  beast,  fowls  of  the  air,  and  fish  of 
the  sea,  all  draw  equally  the  regard  of  Him  who,  counting  no- 
thing great  but  Himself,  the  Creator,  can  pass  over,  as  small, 
no  fraction  of  the  creation. 

8.  It  is  thus  virtually  the  attribute  of  God,  that  He  should 
care  for  every  thing  and  sustain  every  thing ;  so  that  we 
should  never  behold  a  blade  of  grass  springing  up  from  the 
earth,  nor  hear  a  bird  warble  its  wild  music,  without  a  warm 
memory  that  it  is  through  Him,  as  a  God  of  providence,  that 
the  fields  are  enameled  in  due  season,  that  every  animated 
tribe  receives  its  sustenance,  and  that  the  successive  generations 
of  mankind  arise,  flourish,  and  possess  the  earth. 

9.  Never  should  we  think  of  joy  or  sorrow,  of  things  pros- 
perous or  adverse,  of  health  or  sickness,  life  or  death,  without 
devoutly  believing  that  the  times  of  every  man  are  in  the  Al- 
mighty's hands, — that  nothing  happens,  but  through  the  ordi- 
nance or  permission  of  God ;  and  that  the  very  same  Provi- 
dence which  guides  the  marchings  of  the  stars,  and  regulates 
the  convulsions  of  empires,  is  tending  at  the  couch  of  the  af- 
flicted, curtaining  the  sleep,  and  watching  the  toil,  of  earth's 
remotest  families. 


LESSON   CXXXYK 

ELEGANT  EXTRACTS. 

The  varied  Changes  of  Creation. 

TOUNQ. 

Look  nature  through,  'tis  revolution  all ; 
All  change,  no  death  ;  day  follows  night,  and  night, 
The  dying  day  ;  stars  rise  and  set,  and  set  and  rise  ; 
Earth  takes  the  example.     See  the  Summer  gay, 
With  her  green  chaplet  and  ambrosial  flowers, 
Droops  into  pallid  Autumn  :  Winter  gray. 
Horrid  with  frost  and  turbulent  with  storm, 
Blows  Autumn  and  his  golden  fruits  aw^ay, 


852  SANDERS'    NEW    SERIES. 

Then  melts  into  the  Spring  :  soft  Spring,  with  breath 
Favonian,  from  warm  chambers  of  the  south, 
Eecalls  the  first.     All,  to  reflourish,  fades  ; 
As  in  a  wheel,  all  sinks  to  re-ascend ; 
Emblems  of  man,  who  passes,  not  expires. 


Results  of  Procrastination. 

longfellcw. 
Alas  !  it  is  not  till  time,  with  reckless  hand,  has  torn  out 
half  the  leaves  from  the  book  of  human  life,  to  light  the  fires 
of  passion  with,  from  day  to  day,  that  man  begins  to  see,  that 
the  leaves  which  remain  are  few  in  number,  and  to  remember 
that  upon  the  earlier  pages  of  that  book,  was  written  a  story 
of  happy  innocence,  which  he  would  fain  read  over  again. 
Then  comes  listless  irresolution,  and  the  inevitable  inaction  of 
despair  ;  or  else  the  firm  resolve  to  record  upon  the  leaves 
that  still  remain,  a  more  noble  history  than  the  child's  story, 
with  which  the  book  began. 


Divine  Compassion. 

COWPEB. 

I  was  a  stricken  deer  that  left  the  herd 
Long  since  :  with  many  an  arrow  deep  infixed 
My  panting  side  was  charged,  when  I  withdrew 
To  seek  a  tranquil  death  in  distant  shades. 
There  was  I  found  by  One  who  had  Himself 
Been  hurt  by  archers  ;  in  His  side  he  bore, 
And  in  His  hands  and  feet,  the  cruel  scars. 
With  gentle  force  soliciting  the  darts. 
He  drew  them  forth,  and  healed,  and  bade  me  live. 


Nature's  Loveliness. 

chalmers. 

Whether  we  look  on  soft  and  flowery  landscapes,  lighted 
up  from  heaven  by  sweetest  sunshine,  or  toward  that  evening 
sky,  behind  the  hues  and  inimitable  toucl^es  of  whose  loveli- 
ness, one  could  almost  dream  that  there  floated  isles  of  Para- 
dise, whereon  the  spirits  of  the  blest  were  rejoicing, — or  with- 


'  riFTHBOOK.  353 

out  poetic  revery,  did  we  but  confine  our  prospect  to  tliose 
realities,  by  which  earth  is  peopled,  and  take  account  of  those 
unnumbered  graces,  which,  in  verdant  meads,  or  waving  foli- 
age, or  embosomed  lake,  or  all  the  other  varieties  of  rural 
freshness  and  fertility,  lie  strewn  upon  its  surface, — it  may 
most  readily  be  thought,  that  surely  He,  at  whose  creative 
touch  all  this  loveliness  has  arisen,  must  Himself  be  placid  as 
the  scene,  or  gentle  as  the  zephyr  that  He  causes  to  blow 
ovfer  it. 


POPE. 


Vice. 

Vice  is  a  monster  of  so  frightful  mien, 
As,  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen ; 
But,  seen  too  oft,  familiar  with  her  face, 
We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace. 


Value  op  the  Soul. 
Knowest  thou  the  value  of  a  soul  immortal  ? 
Behold  this  midnight  glory, — worlds  on  worlds ! 
Amazing  pomp  !  redouble  this  amaze  ! 
Ten  thousand  add,  and  twice  ten  thousand  more ; 
Then  weigh  the  whole  ; — one  soul  outweighs  them  all, 
And  calls  the  astonishing  magnificence 
Of  unintelligent  creation — poor. 


Mercy. 

shaespeabe. 
The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained ; 

It  droppeth,  as  the  gentle  rain  from  heaven 

Upon  the  place  beneath  :  it  is  twice  bless'd ; 

It  blesseth  him  that  gives,  and  him  that  takes; 

'Tis  mightiest  in  the  mightiest ;  it  becomes 

The  throned  monarch  better  than  his  crown  ; 

His  scepter  shows  the  force  of  temporal  power, 

The  attribute  to  awe  and  majesty, 

Wherein  doth  sit  the  dread  and  fear  of  kings ; 

But  mercy  is  above  this  sceptered  sway ; 


354  SANDERS'     NEW      SERIES. 

It  is  enthroned  in  the  hearts  of  kings ; 

It  is  an  attribute  to  God  himself: 

And  earthly  power  doth  then  show  likest  God's, 

When  mercy  seasons  justice. 


The  Poor  cared  for. 

melville. 

There  is  not  the  poor  man,  whom  the  rising  sun  wakens  to 
the  going  forth  to  toil  for  his  daily  bread,  who  may  not  as  dis- 
tinctly assure  himself  of  his  carrying  with  him  to  his  weari- 
some task  the  ever-watchful  guardianship  of  the  Almighty 
Maker  of  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  as  though  he  were  the 
leader  of  armies,  or  the  ruler  of  nations. 


Long-Suffering. 

LOPE  DE  tega. 

Lord,  what  am  I,  that  with  unceasing  care 
Thou  did'st  seek  after  me, — that  Thou  didst  wait, 
Wet  with  unhealthy  dews,  before  my  gate, 

And  pass  the  gloomy  nights  of  winter  there  ? 
O  strange  delusion! — that  I  did  not  greet 

Thy  blessed  approach !  and  O,  to  Heaven  how  lost, 

If  my  ingratitude's  unkindly  frost 
Has  chilled  the  bleeding  wounds  upon  Thy  feet ! 

How  oft  my  guardian  angel  gently  cried  : — 
"  Soul,  from  thy  casement  look  without  and  see 
How  He  persists  to  knock  and  wait  for  thee !" 
And  O,  how  often  to  that  voice  of  sorrow  : — 

"  To-morrow  we  will  open  !"  I  replied  ; 
And  when  the  morrow  came,  I  answered  still : — "  To-morrow  !" 


Improvement. 

campbell. 
Come,  bright  Improvement,  on  the  car  of  Time, 
And  rule  the  spacious  world  from  clime  to  clime, 
Thy  handmaid,  Art,  shall  every  wild  explore, 
Trace  every  wave,  and  culture  every  shore. 


FIFTH    BOOK.  355 

LESSON   CXXXYIU 

THE   PRINTING   PRESS, 

CTJMMING. 

1.  The  influence  for  good  or  for  evil,  which  men  leave  be- 
hind them  in  the  immediate  circles  of  their  friends  and  acquaint- 
ance, extends  from  generation  to  generation  ;  but  there  are 
other  ways  in  which  men  may  speak  as  loudly  as  if  they  had 
a  voice  which  could  be  heard  from  the  rivers  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth.  I  speak  not  of  the  lettered  tomb-stone,  which  is 
the  voice  of  many  of  the  dead  speaking,  after  they  are  gone ;  • 
nor  of  monuments  erected  to  commemorate  illustrious  worth ; 
nor  of  legacies  and  bequests  to  the  cause  of  religion,  which 
make  the  name  of  the  donor  to  be  mentioned  with  reverence 
and  respect  after  he  is  departed ;  but  I  speak  of  the  almost 
undying  influence  which  genius  can  exert  by  reason  of  that 
great  discovery  of  modern  times, — the  Printing  Press. 

2.  By  means  of  printing,  man  may  speak  to  all  kindreds, 
and  tribes,  and  tongues,  and  make  his  voice  be  heard,  with 
simultaneous  power,  beyond  the  Atlantic  waves,  upon  the 
shores  of  the  Caspian  Sea,  and  amid  the  population  of  Europe. 
Nay,  he  may  speak  to  the  accumulating  generations  after  his 
death,  with  all  the  freshness  and  force  of  personal  eloquence. 
Printing  gives  to  man  a  sort  of  ubiquity  and  eternity  of  being ; 
it  enables  him  to  outwit  death,  and  enshrine  himself  amid  a 
kind  of  earthly  immortality.  It  enables  him  to  speak  while 
yet  dead.  His  words  that  breathe,  and  thoughts  that  burn, 
are  embodied  and  embalmed ;  and  with  him  thousands  hold 
profitable  or  hurtful  communion  till  time  is  no  more. 

3.  If,  then,  we  are  loudly  called  upon  to  be  careful  what  we 
speak,  and  what  we  do,  we  are  doubly  warned  to  beware  what 
we  throw  into  the  press,  and  invest  with  a  power  to  endure,  and 
a  strength  to  pass  every  sea,  and  to  visit  every  people.  Every 
day,  as  it  dawns,  is  adding  to  the  powers,'  resources  and  ex- 
pansibilities of  man.  And,  if  every  day  does  not  also  add  a 
larger  amount  of  moral  and  religious  principle  to  regulate  this 


356  SANDEKS'    NEW     SERIES. 

growing  power,  tlien,  in  the  end,  will  the  human  race  attain  a 
giant's  strength,  but  have  an  idiot's  skill  to  use  it. 

4.  Our  political  power  is  increased  ;  our  numerical,  and, 
therefore,  physical,  power  is  increased  ;  our  skill  has  enabled  us, 
by  steam  navigation,  to  bid  defiance  to  tide,  tempest,  and 
time ;  and  our  improvements  in  printing  are  now  so  vastly 
multiplied,  that  we  can  give  body  and  form  to  every  word  that 
falls  from  the  lips  of  man,  and  circulate  the  speech  that  was 
addressed  to  a  few  auditors  yesterday  to  the  utmost  ends  of 
the  globe. 

1.  Long  slumbered  the  world  in  the  darkness  of  error, 

And  ignorance  brooded  o'er  earth  like  a  pall ; 
To  the  scepter  and  crown  men  abased  them  in  terror, 

Though  galling  the  bondage,  and  bitter  the  thrall ; 
When  a  voice,  like  the  earthquake's,  revealed  the  dishonor,--^ 

A  flash,  like  the  lightning's,  unsealed  ev'ry  eye. 
And  o'er  hill-top  and  glen  floated  liberty's  banner, 

While  round  it  men  gathered  to  conquer  or  die ! 

2.  'Twas  the  voice  of  the  Press,  on  the  startled  ear  breaking, 

In  giant-born  prowess,  like  Pallas  of  old ; 
'Twas  the  flash  of  intelligence,  gloriously  waking 

A  glow  on  the  cheek  of  the  noble  and  bold ; 
And  tyranny's  minions,  o'erawed  and  afi'righted, 

Sought  a  lasting  retreat  from  its  pow'rful  control, 
And  the  chains  which  bound  nations  in  ages  benighted, 

Were  cast  to  the  haunts  of  the  bat  and  the  mole. 

3.  Then  hail  to  the  Press !  chosen  guardian  of  Freedom  ! 

Strong  sword-arm  of  justice  !  bright  sunbeam  of  truth  ; 
We  pledge  to  her  cause,  (and  she  has  but  to  need  them,) 

The  strength  of  our  manhood,  the  fire  of  our  youth  ; 
Should  despots  e'er  dare  to  impede  her  free  soaring, 

Or  bigot  to  fetter  her  flight  with  his  chain. 
We  pledge  that  the  earth  shall  close  o'er  our  deploring, 

Or  view  her  in  gladness  and  freedom  again. 


FIFTH      BOOK.  357 

4.  But  no  ! — to  the  day-dawn  of  knowledge  and  glory, 
A  far  brighter  noontide-refulgence  succeeds  ; 
And  our  art  shall  embalm,  through  all  ages,  in  story, 

Her  champion  who  triumphs, — her  martyr  who  bleeds ; 
And  proudly  her  sons  shall  recall  their  devotion. 
While  millions  shall  listen  to  honor  and  bless, 
Till  there  bursts  a  response  from  the  heart's  strong  emotion, 
And  the  earth  echoes  deep  with  "Long  Life  to  the 
■f^^ESs  !  Horace  Greeley. 


LESSON  cxxxvnu 

MODERN   GREECE. 

BYKON. 

.  He  who  hath  bent  him  o'er  the  dead, 

Ere  the  first  day  of  death  is  fled, 

The  first  dark  day  of  nothingness, — 

The  last  of  danger  and  distress, — 

Before  decay's  effacing  fingers 

Have  swept  the  lines  where  beauty  lingers, 

And  marked  the  mild  angelic  air. 

The  rapture  of  repose  that's  there, — 

The  fixed,  yet  tender  traits  that  streak 

The  languor  of  the  placid  cheek. 

And, — but  for  that  sad  shrouded  eye, 

That  fires  not, — wins  not, — weeps  not, — now, 
And  but  for  that  chill,  changeless  brow, 

Where  cold  obstruction's  apathy 

Appalls  the  gazing  mourner's  heart, 

As  if  to  him  it  could  impart 

The  doom  he  dreads,  yet  dwells  upon, — 

Yes  ;  but  for  these,  and  these  alone, 

Some  moments, — ay,  one  treacherous  hour ; 

He  still  might  doubt  the  tyrant's  power, 

So  fair,  so  calm,  so  softly  sealed, 

The  first,  last  look  by  death  revealed ! 

Such  is  the  aspect  of  this  shore  ; 


358  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

'Tis  Greece, — but  living  Greece  no  more  ! 

So  coldly  sweet,  so  deadly  fair. 

We  start, — for  soul  is  wanting  there. 

2.  Hers  is  the  loveliness  in  death, 

That  parts  not  quite  with  parting  breath ; 

But  beauty  with  that  fearful  bloom, 

That  hue  which  haunts  it  to  the  tomb, — 

Expression's  last  receding  ray, 

A  gilded  halo  hovering  round  decay, 

The  farewell  beam  of  feeling  past  away ! 

Spark  of  that  flame, — perchance  of  heavenly  birth, — 

Which  gleams,  but  warms  no  more  its  cherished  earth. 


LESSON    CXXXIX+ 


Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  G-il'  bbrt  Mo'  tier  La  Fay  ette,  unsolicit- 
ed, espoused  the  cause  of  the  American  Revolution  at  an  early  age  ;  and 
against  the  remonstrances  of  his  friends  and  his  government,  he  resolved 
to  identify  his  fortune  with  its  result.  He  fitted  out  a  vessel  at  his  own 
expense,  and  sailed  for  America,  being  obliged  to  disguise  himself  as  a 
courier,  to  prevent  being  arrested. 

2.  On  the  arrival  of  La  Fayette  in  Philadelphia,  Congress  received  him 
with  coldness,  though  it  finally  consented  to  grant  him  a  commission  as 
an  officer  in  the  army. 

3.  After  the  overthrow  of  the  Bourbon  Dynasty,  or  the  family  sovereignty 
of  France,  the  reins  of  government  were  seized  by  a  cabal  opposed  to  La 
Fayette.  He,  therefore,  resolved  to  leave  France  for  America,  but  was 
seized  by  the  Austrian  government  as  a  prisoner ;  and,  although  he  was 
offered  his  freedom,  if  ho  would  renounce  BepubUcan  principles,  he  refused 
to  do  so;  whereupon  he  was  thrown  into  the  dungeons  of  Olmutz,  in 
Austria.  Here  he  suffered  five  years  of  close  and  cruel  confinement,  not- 
withstandiug  the  efforts  of  Washington  and  other  Americans  in  his  be- 
half He  was  finally  released  through  the  intervention  of  Napoleon  Bo- 
naparte,— an  act  which  reflects  on  him  greater  honor  than  his  victories. 

4.  The  revolution  of  1830,  in  France,  deposed  Charles  X.,  a  member  of 
the  Bourbon  flimQy,  that  had  previously  been  restored  to  the  sovereignty. 
The  students  of  the  Polytechnic  School  assembled  at  the  house  of  La  Fay- 
ette, at  La  Grange,  to  receive  his  advice  in  regard  to  the  course  they 
should  pursue.  This  revolution  resulted  in  calling  Louis  PhQippe  to  the 
throne. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  359 

CHARACTER   OF   LA   FAYETTE. 

J.   T.   HEADLET. 

i.  There  are  now  and  then  bright  spots  on  this  darkened 
planet  of  ours, — great  and  glorious  examples  of  human  virtue, 
interrupting  the  otherwise  sad  history  of  the  race.  Patriot- 
ism, which  sinks  self,  and  scorns  death,  is  a  noble  virtue  ;  yet 
one  might  be  expected  to  defend  his  own  land  and  hearth- 
stones. But  that  philanthropy  which  goes  out  of  its  own  hem- 
isphere, to  seek  the  welfare,  and  suffer  for  the  freedom  of 
strangers,  is  a  rarer  virtue ;  yet  it  is  the  one  which  has  immor- 
talized La  Fayette.' 

2.  One  can  never  thiuk  of  that  French  boy,  eighteen  years 
of  age,  just  married,  rolling  in  wealth,  and  basking  in  the  sun- 
shine of  court  favor,  sending  up  from  the  Tuileries*  of  Paris 
his  shout  for  us  and  our  cause,  without  the  deepest  emotion. 
Our  admiration  and  affection  are  not  lessened,  when  we  see 
him  lavishing  "his  wealth  on  our  naked,  famishing  soldiers, — 
winding  himself,  in  child-like  love,  round  the  great  heart  of  our 
Washington, — charging  like  a  veteran  through  the  ranks  of 
our  foemen,  and  carried  pale  and  bleeding  from  our  disastrous 
fields. 

3.  There  is  something  exquisitely  touching  and  beautiful  in 
the  enthusiasm  of  this  youth,  in  our  behalf.  His  whole  career, 
as  connected  with  this  country,  seems  to  belong  rather  to  ro- 
mance, than  to  plain  history.  To  give  a  naked  narrative  of 
facts,  is  to  weave  poetry  into  politics,  and  throw  gushes  of 
"warm,  generous  feeling  into  the  cold  calculations  of  intriguing 
statesmen.  France  wished  us  success,  because  it  would  re- 
venge her  for  the  loss  of  her  colonies  in  this  country,  and 
weaken  the  power  of  her  rival  in  the  New  World  ;  but  these 
motives  never  entered  into  the  heart  of  La  Fayette.  He  saw 
only  a  weak,  but  brave  people,  struggling  to  be  free  ;  and, 
overlooking  all  questions  of  interest,  breaking  away  from  all 
ties  of  home,  family,  and  country,  threw  himself  alone  into 
our  arms. 

*  A  royal  palace  in  Paris. 


360  SANDEES'     NEW     SERIES. 

4.  National  prejudice,  tlie  jealousy  of  our  officers,  and  the 
coldness  of  Congress,''  could  not  check  the  warm  current  of  his 
sympathy.  For  us  he  was  determined  to  contend, — in  our 
cause  expend  his  fortune,  and  peril  his  life.  Not  an  exile,  nor 
an  adventurer,  but  a  wealthy,  flattered,  young  nobleman,  he 
cast  from  him  the  luxuries  and  gayeties  of  the  French  Court, 
turned  away  from  all  the  honors  that  clustered  in  his  path, 
ftnd  became  the  companion  of  our  poverty  and  toils, — the  jest 
and  by-word  of  kings. 

6.  Few  men  have  passed  through  so  many  and  so  fearful 
scenes  as  he.  From  a  young  courtier,  he  passed  into  the  self- 
denying,  toilsome  life  of  a  general  in  the  ill-clothed,  ill-fed,  and 
ill-disciplined  American  army, — thence  into  the  vortex  of  the 
French  Revolution  and  all  its  horrors, — thence  into  the  gloomy 
prison  of  Olmutz.^  After  a  few  years  of  retirement,  he  ap- 
peared on  our  shores  to  receive  the  welcome  of  a  grateful  peo- 
ple, to  hear  a  nation  shout  his  praise,  and  bear  him  from  one 
limit  of  the  land  to  another  in  its  arms. 

6.  A  few  years  pass  by,  and  with  his  gray  hairs  falling  about 
his  aged  countenance,  he  stands  amid  the  students*  of  Paris, 
and  sends  his  feeble  shout  of  defiance  to  the  throne  of  the 
Bourbon,  and  it  falls.  Rising  more  by  his  virtue  than  his  in- 
tellect, he  holds  a  prominent  place  in  the  history  of  France, 
and,  linked  with  Washington,  goes  down  to  a  greater  immor- 
tality than  awaits  any  emperor  or  mere  warrior  of  the  human 
race. 

7.  His  love  for  this  country  was  deep  and  abiding.  To  the 
last  his  heart  turned  hither,  and  well  it  might.  His  career  of 
glory  began  on  our  shores, — on  our  cause  he  staked  his  repu- 
tation, fortune,  and  life,  and  in  our  success  received  the  bene- 
diction of  the  good  throughout  the  world.  That  love  was  re- 
turned with  interest,  and  never  was  a  nobler  exhibition  of  a 
nation's  gratitude  than  our  reception  of  him  at  his  last  visit. 

8.  We  love  him  for  what  he  did  for  us ;  we  revere  him  for 
his  consistency  to  our  principles,  amid  all  the  chaos  and  revo- 
lutions of  Europe ;  and  when  we  cease  to  speak  of  him  with 
affection  and  gratitude,  we  shall  show  ourselves  unworthy  of 


FIFTH     BOOK.  3G1 

the  blessings  we  liavo  received  at  his  hand.  "  Honor  to  La 
Fayette  !"  will  ever  stand  inscribed  on  our  temple  of  liberty, 
until  its  ruins  shall  cover  all  it  now  contains. 


LESSON   CXIx. 
LA   FAYETTE'S   LAST   VISIT   TO   AMERICA. 

J.   T.   HEADLET. 

1.  Again,  in  his  old  age,*  La  Fayette  determined  to  look 
on  the  young  Republic  that  had  escaped  the  disasters  which 
had  overwhelmed  France.  When  his  plans  were  made  known, 
our  government  offered  to  place  a  national  vessel  at  his  dispo- 
sal ;  but  he  declined  accepting  it,  and  embarked  at  Havre  in  a 
merchantman,  and  arrived  at  New  York,  August  15,  1824. 
His  reception  in  this  country,  and  triumphal  march  through 
it,  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  events  in  the  history  of  the 
world.  Such  gratitude  and  unbounded  affection  were  never 
before  received  by  a  man  from  a  foreign  nation. 

2.  As  he  passed  from  Staten  Island  to  New  York,  the  bay 
was  covered  with  gay  barges  decorated  with  streamers  ;  and 
when  the  beautiful  fleet  shoved  away,  the  bands  struck  up  : — 
"  Where  can  one  better  be,  than  in  the  bosom  of  his  family  f 
Never  did  this  favorite  French  air  seem  so  appropriate, — not 
even  when  the  shattered  Old  Guard  closed  sternly  around  its 
Emperor,  and  sang  it  amid  the  fire  of  the  enemy's  guns, — as 
when  a  free  people  thus  chanted  it  around  the  venerable  La 
Fayette. 

3.  As  he  touched  the  shore,  the  thunder  of  cannon  shook 
the  city, — old  soldiers  rushed  weeping  into  his  arms ;  and, 
"  Welcome  La  Fayette  !"  Avaved  from  every  banner,  rung 
from  every  trumpet,  and  was  caught  up  by  every  voice,  till 
"  Welcome,  welcome  !"  rose  and  fell  in  deafening  shouts  from 
the  assembled  thousands.  During  the  four  days  he  remained 
in  the  city,  it  was  one  constant  jubilee ;  and  when  he  left  for 
Boston,  all  along  his  route,  the  people  rose  to  welcome  him. 

*  La  Fayette  was  sixty-seven  years  of  age  at  the  time  of  his  last  visit 

to  America. 

16 


862  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

4.  He  traveled  every  night  till  twelve  o'clock,  and  watch- 
fires  were  kept  burning  on  the  hill-tops,  along  his  line  oi 
progress.  Blazing  through  the  darkness,  they  outshone  the 
torches  that  heralded  hira ;  while,  in  the  distance,  the  pealing 
bells  from  every  church  spire,  announced  his  coming.  The 
same  enthusiastic  joy  awaited  him  at  Boston  ;  and  when  he  re- 
turned to  New  York,  the  city  was  wilder  than  ever  with  ex- 
citement. 

5.  In  Castle-Garden  there  Avas  a  splendid  illumination  in 
honor  of  him, — the  bridge  leading  to  it  was  surmounted  by  a 
pyramid  sixty  feet  high,  with  a  blazing  star  at  the  top,  from 
the  center  of  which  flashed  the  name  of  La  Fayette.  The 
planks  were  covered  with  carpets,  and  trees  and  flowers  in- 
numerable lined  the  passage.  Over  the  entrance  was  a  tri- 
umphal arch  of  flowers, — huge  columns  arose  from  the  area, 
supporting  arches  of  flowers,  and  flags,  and  statues.  As  he 
entered  this  wilderness  of  beauty,  the  bands  struck  up  : — "  See 
the  conquering  hero  comes^''  and  shouts  shook  the  edifice  to  its 
foundation. 

6.  He  had  scarcely  taken  his  seat  in  a  splendid  marque  pre- 
pared for  his  reception,  when  the  curtain  before  the  gallery,  in 
front  of  him,  lifted, — and  there  was  a  beautiful  transparency, 
representing  La  Grange,  with  its  grounds  and  towers,  and  be- 
neath it : — "  This  is  his  homeP  Nothing  could  be  more  touch- 
ing and  affectionate  than  this  device  ;  and  as  La  Fayette's  eye 
fell  upon  it,  a  tear  was  seen  to  gather  there,  and  his  lip  to 
quiver  with  feeling. 

v.  Thus  the  people  received  the  "  people's  friend."  From 
New  York  he  went  to  Albany  and  Troy,  and  one  long  shout 
of  welcome  rolled  the  length  of  the  Hudson,  as  he  floated  up 
the  noble  stream.  After  visiting  other  cities,  and  receiving 
similar  demonstrations  of  gratitude,  he  turned  his  steps 
toward  Mount  Vernon,  to  visit  the  tomb  of  Washington. 
The  thunder  of  cannon  announced  his  arrival  at  the  conse- 
crated ground,  calling  to  his  mind  the  time  when  he  had  seen 
that  now  lifeless  chieftain,  move  through  the  tumult  of  battle. 

8.  Wishing  no  one  to  witness  his  emotions,  as  he  stood  be- 


FIFTH     BOOK.  363 

side  the  ashes  of  his  friend,  he  descended  alone  into  the  vault. 
With  trembling  steps,  and  uncovered  head,  he  passed  down  to 
the  tomb.  The  secrets  of  that  meeting  of  the  living  with  the 
dead,  no  one  knows ;  but  when  the  aged  veteran  came  forth 
again,  his  face  was  covered  with  tears.  He  then  took  his  son 
and  secretary  by  the  hand,  and  led  them  into  the  vault.  He 
could  not  speak, — his  bursting  heart*wastoo  full  for  utterance, 
and  he  mutely  pointed  to  the  coffin  of  Washington.  They 
knelt  reverently  beside  it ;  then,  rising,  threw  themselves  into 
La  Fayette's  arms,  and  burst  into  tears.  It  was  a  touching 
scene,  there  in  the  silent  vault,  and  worthy  the  noble  sleeper. 

9.  Thence  he  went  to  Yorktown,  and  then  proceeded  South, 
passed  through  all  the  principal  cities  to  New  Orleans,  and 
thence  up  the  Mississippi  to  Cincinnati  and  across  to  Pitts- 
burg. Wherever  he  went  the  entire  nation  rose  to  do  him 
homage.  "  Honor  to  La  Fayette,"  "  Welcome  to  La  Fayette, 
the  nation's  guest,"  and  such  like  exclamations  had  met  him  at 
every  step.  Flowers  were  strewed  along  his  pathway, — his 
carriage  detached  from  the  horses,  and  drawn  by  the  enthusi- 
astic crowd,  along  ranks  of  grateful  freemen  who  rent  the 
heavens  with  their  acclamations.  Melted  to  tears  by  these  de- 
monstrations of  love,  he  had  moved  like  a  father  amid  his 
children,  scattering  blessings  wherever  he  went. 

10.  One  of  his  last  acts  in  this  country,  was  to  lay  the  cor- 
ner-stone of  the  Bunker  Hill  Monument.  It  was  fit  that  he, 
the  last  survivor  of  the  major-generals  of  the  American  Revolu- 
tion, should  consecrate  the  first  block  in  that  grand  structure. 
Amid  the  silent  attention  of  fifty  thousand  spectators,  this 
aged  veteran,  and  friend  of  Washington,  with  uncovered  head, 
performed  the  imposing  ceremonies,  and,  "Long  live  La 
Favette,"  swelled  up  from  the  top  of  Bunker  Hill. 


WELCOME   TO   GENERAL   LA    PAYETTE. 

EDWARD   EVERETT. 

1.  Welcome,  friend  of  our  fathers,  to  our  shores.  Happy 
are  our  eyes  that  behold  those  venerable  features.  Enjoy  a 
triumph,  such  as  never  conqueror  or  monarch  enjoyed, — the 


364  SANDEKS'      NEW      SERIES. 

assurance  that,  throughout  America,  there  is  not  a  bosom 
which  does  not  beat  with  joy  and  gratitude  at  the  sound  of 
your  name.  You  have  already  met  and  sakited,  or  will  soon 
meet,  the  few  that  remain,  of  the  ardent  patriots,  prudent  coun- 
selors, and  brave  warriors,  with  whom  you  were  associated  in 
achieving  our  liberties.  But  you  have  looked  round  in  vain  for 
the  faces  of  many  who  would  have  lived  years  of  pleasure  on 
a  day  like  this,  with  their  old  companion  in  arms,  and  brother 
in  peril. 

2.  Lincoln,  and  Greene,  and  Knox,  and  Hamilton,  are  gone! 
The  heroes  of  Saratoga  and  Yorktown,  have  fallen  before  the 
only  foe  they  could  not  meet !  Above  all,  the  first  of  heroes 
and  of  men,  the  friend  of  your  youth,  the  more  than  friend  of 
his  country,  rests  in  the  bosom  of  the  soil  he  redeemed.  On 
the  banks  of  his  Potomac,  he  lies  in  glory  and  peace.  You 
will  revisit  the  hospitable  shades  of  Mount  Vernon  ;  but  him 
whom  you  venerated  as  we  did,  you  will  not  meet  at  its  door. 
His  voice  of  consolation,  which  reached  you  in  the  Austrian 
dungeons,  can  not  now  break  its  silence  to  bid  you  welcome  to 
his  own  roof. 

3.  But  the  grateful  children  of  America  will  bid  you  wel- 
come in  his  name.  Welcome,  thrice  welcome  to  our  shores ; 
and  whithersoever,  throughout  the  limits  of  the  continent,  your 
course  shall  take  you,  the  ear  that  hears  you,  shall  bless  you ; 
the  eye  that  sees  you,  shall  bear  witness  to  you  ;  and  every 
tongue  exclaim  with  heartfelt  joy  : — "  Welcome,  welcome,  La 
Fayette  !" 

LESSON    CXLK 

Direction. — The  following  poetry  is  well  adapted  for  exercise  in  mod- 
ulation, and  much  skill  and  practice  are  requisite  in  order  to  read  or 
apeak  it  with  propriety.  In  uttering  tlie  portions  requiring  an  elevated 
tone  of  voice,  avoid  too  shrill  or  too  sharp  a  sound ;  but  let  it  be  full  and 
commanding. 

DEATH,    THE    FINAL    CONQUEROR;     OR,    THE   BARON'S 

LAST     BANQUET. 

A.   G.   QEEENE. 

1.  (•'•)  O'er  a  low  couch  the  setting  sun 
Had  thrown  its  latest  ray, 


FIFTH     BOOK.  365 

"WTiere,  in  his  last  strong  agony, 

A  dying  warrior  lay, — 
The  stern  old  Baron  Rudiger, 

Whose  frame  had  ne'er  been  bent 
By  wasting  pain,  till  time  and  toil 

Its  iron  strength  had  spent. 

2.  "  They  come  around  me  here,  and  say, 

My  days  of  life  are  o'er, — 
That  I  shall  mount  my  noble  steed, 

And  lead  my  band  no  more ; 
They  come,  and  to  my  beard  they  dare 

To  tell  me  now  that  I, 
Their  own  liege  lord  and  master  born, 

That  I, — ha !  ha ! — must  die. 

3.  "  And  what  is  death  ?     I've  dared  him  oft 

Before  the  warrior's  spear, — 
Think  ye  he's  entered  at  my  gate, — 

Has  come  to  seek  me  here  ? 
I've  met  him,  faced  him,  scorned  him, 

When  the  fight  was  raging  hot, — 
I'll  try  his  might, — I'll  brave  his  power, — 

Defy,  and  fear  him  not. 

(°)    4.  "  Ho  !  sound  the  tocsin  from  the  tower. 
And  fire  the  culverin,*  — 
Bid  each  retainer  arm  with  speed, — 
Call  every  vassal  in  ; 
(  °)       Up  with  my  banner  on  the  wall, — 
The  banquet  board  prepare, — 
Throw  wide  the  portal  of  my  hall. 
And  bring;  mv  armor  there  !" 

(=)   5.  A  hundred  hands  were  busy  then, — 
The  banquet  forth  was  spread, — 
And  rang  the  heavy  oaken  floor 
With  many  a  martial  tread  ; 

*  CuLVERiN  is  a  long,  slender  cannon,  serving  to  carry  a  ball  to  a  great 
distance. 


366  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

While,  from  tlie  rich,  dark  tracery 

Along  tlie  vaulted  wall, 
Lights  gleamed  on  harness,  plume,  and  spear, 

O'er  the  proud,  old  Gothic  hall. 

6.  Fast  hurrying  through  the  outer  gate, 

The  mailed  retainers*  poured 
On  through  the  portal's  frowning  arch, 

And  thronged  around  the  board. 
While,  at  its  head,  within  his  dark, 

Carved  oaken  chair  of  state. 
Armed  cap-a-pie,  stern  Eudigek, 

With  girded  falchion,  sate. 

(°)    7.  "  Fill  every  beakerf  up,  my  men, 
Pour  forth  the  cheering  wine ; 
Tlaere's  life  and  strength  in  every  drop, — 

Thanksgiving  to  the  vine  ! 
Are  ye  all  there,  my  vassals  true  ?  * 

(q)  Mine  eyes  are  waxing  dim  ; — 

Fill  round,  my  tried  and  fearless  ones, 
Each  goblet  to  the  brim. 

8.  "  Ye're  there,  but  yet  I  see  you  not. 
(°)  Draw  forth  each  trusty  sword, — 

And  let  me  hear  your  faithful  steel 

Clash  once  around  my  board ! 
I  hear  it  faintly  : — (°°)  Louder  yet! — 
(^)  What  clogs  my  heavy  breath  ? 

(°°)      Up  ^^^1 — ^^^^  shout  for  RuDiGER : — 
^Defiance  unto  Death  P  " 

9.  Bowl  rang  to  bowl,  steel  clanged  to  steel, 

And  rose  a  deafening  cry, 
That  made  the  torches  flare  around. 
And  shook  the  flags  on  high  : — 
(°°)       "  Ho  !  cravens  !  do  ye  fear  him  ? 

Slaves  !  traitors  !  have  ye  flown  ? 

*  Retainers,  attendants  or  adherents.  f  Beaker,  cup  or  glass. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  367 

Ho  !  cowards  have  ye  left  me 
To  meet  him  here  alone  ? 

10.  "  But  I  defy  him  :— let  him  come  !" 

Down  rang  the  massy  cup, 
While,  from  its  sheath,  the  ready  blade 

Came  flashing  half-way  up ; 
And,  with  the  black  and  heavy  plumes 

Scarce  trembling  on  his  head, 
There,  in  his  dark,  carved  oaken  chair. 

Old  Rudiger  sat, — dead  ! 


LESSON  CXLIK 

STARVED   ROCK;    OR,    THE   LAST   OF   THE     ILLINOIS. 

CHARLES  LANMAN. 

1.  Starved  Rock  is  the  unpoetical  name  of  a  singular  spot 
on  the  Illinois  river,  about  eight  miles  south  of  Ottawa.  It  is 
a  rocky  bluflf,  rising  from  the  margin  of  the  stream  to  the  hight 
of  more  than  a  hundred  feet,  and  is  only  separated  from  the 
main  land  by  a  narrow  chasm.  Its  length  might  probably 
measure  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  Its  sides  are  perpendicu- 
,lar,  and  there  is  only  one  point  where  it  can  be  ascended,  and 
that  is  by  a  narrow  stair-like  path.  It  is  covered  with  many 
a  cone-like  evergreen,  and,  in  summer,  encircled  by  luxuriant 
grape  and  ivy  vines,  and  clusters  of  richly-colored  flowers.  It 
is  undoubtedly  the  most  conspicuous  and  beautiful  pictorial 
feature  of  the  sluggish  and  lone  Illinois,  and  is  associated  with 
the  final  extinction  of  the  Illinois  tribe  of  Indians.  The  legend, 
to  which  I  listened  from  the  lips  of  a  venerable  Indian-trader, 
is  as  follows : 

2.  Many  years  ago,  the  whole  region  lying  between  Lake 
Michigan  and  the  Mississippi  was  the  home  and  dominion  of 
the  Illinois  Indians.  For  them  alone  did  the  buff'alo  and  ante- 
lope range  over  its  broad  prairies ;  for  them  did  the  finest  of 
rivers  roll  their  waters  into  the  lap  of  Mexico,  and  bear  upon 
their  bosoms  the  birchen  canoe,  as  they  sought  to  capture  the 


368  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

wild  water -fowl ;  and  for  them  alone  did  tlio  dense  forest, 
crowding  upon  tliose  streams,  shelter  their  unnumbered  deni- 
zens. In  every  direction  might  be  seen  the  smoke  of  the  wig- 
wams, curling  upvard  to  mingle  with  the  sunset  clouds,  which 
told  them  tales  of  the  Spirit-Land. 

3.  Years  passed  on,  and  they  continued  to  be  at  case  in 
their  possessions.  But  the  white  man  from  the  far  east,  with 
the  miseries  that  have  ever  accompanied  him  on  his  march  of 
usurpation,  began  to  wander  into  the  wilderness,  and  trouble, 
to  the  poor  red  man,  was  the  inevitable  consequence.  The 
baneful  "  fire-water,"  which  was  the  gift  of  civilization,  cre- 
ated dissensions  among  the  savage  tribes,  until,  in  the  process 
of  time,  and  on  account  of  purely  imaginary  evils,  the  Pota- 
wattamies  from  Michigan  determined  to  make  war  upon  the 
Indians  of  Illinois.  Fortune  smiled  upon  the  oppressors,  and 
the  identical  rock  in  question  was  the  spot  that  witnessed  the 
extinction  of  an  aboriginal  tribe. 

4.  It  was  the  close  of  a  long  siege  of  cruel  warfare,  and  the 
afternoon  of  a  day 'in  the  delightful  Indian  summer.  The  sun- 
shine threw  a  mellow  haze  upon  the  prairies,  and  tinged  the 
multitudinous  flowers  with  deepest  gold ;  while,  in  the  shadow 
of  the  forest-islands,  the  doe  and  her  fawn  reposed  in  perfect 
quietness,  lulled  into  a  contemporary  slumber  by  the  hum  of 
the  grasshopper  and  the  wild  bee.  The  wilderness  world  wore 
an  aspect  of  a  perfect  Sabbath.  But  now,  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye,  the  delightful  solitude  was  broken  by  the  shrill 
whoop,  and  dreadful  struggle  of  bloody  conflict,  upon  the  prai- 
ries and  in  the  woods.  All  over  the  country  were  seen  the 
dead  bodies  of  the  ill-fated  Illinois,  when  it  was  ordered  by 
Providence  that  the  concluding  skirmish  between  the  hostile 
parties,  should  take  place  in  the  vicinity  of  Starved  Eock. 

5.  The  Potawattamies  numbered  near  three  hundred  war, 
riors,  while  the  Illinois  tribe  was  reduced  to  about  one  hundred, 
who  were  mostly  aged  chiefs  and  youthful  heroes, — the  more 
desperate  warriors  having  already  perished,  and  the  women 
and  the  children  of  the  tribe  having  already  been  massacred 
and  consumed  in  their  wigwams.    The  battle  was  most  desper- 


FIFTH      BOOK.  369 

ate  between  the  unequal  parties.  The  Illinois  were  about  to 
give  up  for  lost,  when  in  their  frenzy,  they  gave  a  defying 
shout  and  retreated  to  the  rocky  bluflF.  From  this,  it  was  an 
easy  matter  to  keep  back  their  enemies,  but  alas  !  from  that 
moment  they  were  to  endure  unthought-of  suffering,  to  the 
delight  of  their  baffled,  yet  victorious  enemies. 

6.  To  describe  in  words  the  scene  that  now  followed  and 
was  prolonged  for  several  days,  is  utterly  impossible.  Those 
stout-hearted  Indians,  in  whom  a  nation  was  about  to  become 
extinct,  chose  to  die  upon  their  strange  fortress  by  starvation 
and  thirst,  rather  than  surrender  themselves  to  the  scalping- 
knife  of  their  exterminators.  And,  with  a  few  exceptions,  this 
was  the  manner,  in  which  they  did  perish.  Now  and  then, 
indeed,  a  desperate  man  would  lower  himself,  hoping  thereby 
to  escape,  but  a  tomahawk  would  cleave  his  brain  before  he 
touched  the  water. 

1.  Day  followed  day,  and  those  helpless  captives  sat  in  si- 
lence, and  gazed  imploringly  upon  their  broad  and  beautiful 
lands,  while  hunger  was  gnawing  into  their  very  vitals.  Night 
followed  night,  and  they  looked  upon  the  silent  stars,  and 
toward  the  home  of  the  Great  Spirit,  but  they  murmured  not 
at  His  decree.  And,  if  they  slept,  in  their  dreams  they  once 
more  played  with  their  little  children,  or  roamed  the  woods 
and  prairies  in  perfect  freedom.  When  morning  dawned,  it 
was  but  the  harbinger  of  another  day  of  agony ;  but  when  the 
evening  hour  came,  a  smile  would  sometimes  brighten  up  a 
han^gard  countenance,  for  the  poor  unhappy  soul,  through  the 
eye  of  an  obscure  faith,  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  Spirit- 
Land. 

8.  Day  followed  day,  and  the  last  lingering  hope  was  aban- 
doned. Their  destiny  was  sealed,  and  no  change  for  good 
could  possibly  take  place,  for  the  human  blood-hounds  that 
watched  their  prey,  were  utterly  without  mercy.  The  feeble 
white-haired  chief,  crept  into  a  thicket,  and  breathed  his  last. 
The  recently  strong  warrior,  uttering  a  protracted  but  feeble 
yell  of  exultation,  hurled  his  tomahawk  on  some  fiend  below, 
and  then  yielded  himself  up  to  the  pains  of  his  condition.    The 

16* 


370  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

blithe  form  of  tlie  soft-eyed  youth,  parted  with  its  strength, 
and  was  compelled  to  totter,  and  fall  upon  the  earth,  and  die. 
Ten  weary,  weary  days  passed  on,  and  the  strongest  man  and 
the  last  of  his  race  was  numbered  with  the  dead. 


9.  Hollow  ye  the  lonely  grave. 

Make  its  caverns  deep  and  wide ; 
In  the  soil  they  died  to  save. 

Lay  the  brave  men  side  by  side. 
Side  by  side  they  fought  and  fell. 

Hand  by  hand  they  met  the  foe ; 
"Who  has  heard  his  grandsire  tell 

Braver  strife  or  deadlier  blow  ? 

10.  Wake  your  mournful  harmonies. 

Your  tears  of  pity  shed  for  them  ; 
Summer  dew  and  sighing  breeze 

Shall  be  wail  and  requiem. 
Pile  the  grave-mound  broad  and  high, 
Where  the  martyr'd  brethren  sleep  ; 
It  shall  point  the  pilgrim's  eye 
Here  to  bend  and  here  to  weep. 

HoKATio  Hale. 


LESSON   CXUU. 

THE   VOICES   OF   THE   DEAD. 

0.  DEWET. 

1.  The  world  is  filled  with  the  voices  of  the  dead.  They 
speak  not  from  the  public  records  of  the  great  world  only,  but 
from  the  private  history  of  our  own  experience.  They  speak  to 
us  in  a  thousand  remembrances,  in  a  thousand  incidents,  events, 
and  associations.  They  speak  to  us,  not  only  from  their  silent 
graves,  but  from  the  throng  of  life.  Though  they  are  invis- 
ible, yet  life  is  filled  with  their  presence.  They  are  with  us 
by  the  silent  fireside,  and  in  the  secluded  chamber.  They  are 
with  us  in  the  paths  of  society,  and  in  the  crowded  assemblies 
of  men. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  S71 

2.  They  speak  to  us  from  the  lonely  way-side ;  and  they 
speak  to  us  from  the  venerable  walls  that  echo  to  the  steps  of 
a  multitude,  and  to  the  voice  of  prayer.  Go  where  we  will,  the 
dead  are  with  us.  We  live,  we  converse  with  those  who  once 
lived  and  conversed  with  us.  Their  well-remembered  tone 
mingles  with  the  whispering  breeze,  with  the  sound  of  the  fall- 
ing leaf,  with  the  jubilee  shout  of  the  spring-time.  The  earth 
is  filled  with  their  shadowy  train. 

3.  But  there  are  more  substantial  expressions  of  the  pres- 
ence of  the  dead  with  the  living.  The  earth  is  filled  with  the 
labors,  the  works,  of  the  dead.  Almost  all  the  literature  in 
the  world,  the  discoveries  of  science,  the  glories  of  art,  the 
ever-enduring  temples,  the  dwelling-places  of  generations,  the 
comforts  and  improvements  of  life,  the  languages,  the  maxims, 
the  opinions  of  the  living,  the  very  frame-work  of  society,  the 
iastitutions  of  nations,  the  fabrics  of  empires, — ail  are  the 
works  of  the  dead  ;  by  these,  they  who  are  dead,  yet  speak. 

4.  Life, — busy,  eager,  craving,  importunate,  absorbing  life, — 
yet  what  is  its  sphere  compared  with  the  empire  of  death  ? 
What  is  the  sphere  of  \nsible,  compared  with  the  vast  empire 
of  invisible  life  ?  A  moment  in  time  ;  a  speck  in  immensity  ; 
a  shadow  amidst  enduring  and  unchangeable  realities  ;  a  breath 
cf  existence  amidst  the  ages  and  regions  of  undying  life  ! 
They  live, — they  live,  indeed,  whom  we  call  dead.  They  live 
in  our  thoughts  ;  they  live  in  our  blessings  ;  they  live  in  our 
life ; — "  death  hath  no  power  over  them." 

5.  The  efi"ect  of  a  last  sickness  to  develop  and  perfect  the 
virtues  of  our  friends,  is  often  so  striking  and  beautiful,  as  to 
seem  more  than  a  compensation  for  all  the  sufferings  of  disease. 
How  often  does  that  touching  decay,  that  gradual  unclothing 
of  the  mortal  body,  seem  to  be  a  putting  on  of  the  garments 
of  immortal  beauty  and  life ! 

6.  That  pale  cheek ;  that  placid  brow  ;  that  sweet  serenity 
spread  over  the  whole  countenance  ;  that  spiritual,  almost  su- 
pernatural, brightness  of  the  eye,  as  if  light  from  another 
world  shone  through  it;  that  noble  and  touching  disinter- 
estedness  of  the   parting   spirit,  which  utters   no    complaint, 


872  SANDEES'     NEW     SERIES. 

wliicli  breathes  no  sigh,  which  speaks  no  word  of  fear  nor  ap- 
prehension to  wound  its  friend,  which  is  calm  and  cheerfult 
amidst  daily  declining  strength  and  the  sure  approach  to  death  ; 
and  then,  at  length,  that  last,  firm,  triumphant,  consoling  dis- 
course, and  that  last  look  of  all  mortal  tenderness  and  immor- 
tal trust ;  what  hallowed  memories  are  these  to  soothe,  to  pu- 
rify, to  enrapture  surviving  love  ! 

7.  Death,  too,  sets  a  seal  upon  the  excellence  that  sickness 
unfolds  and  consecrates.  There  is  no  living  virtue,  concerning 
which,  such  is  our  frailty,  we  must  not  fear  that  it  may  fall ; 
oi^  at  least,  that  it  may  somewhat  fail  from  its  steadfastness. 
It  is  a  painful,  it  is  a  just  fear,  in  the  bosoms  of  the  best  and 
purest  beings  on  earth,  that  some  dreadful  lapse  may  come 
over  them,  or  over  those  whom  they  hold  in  the  highest  rev- 
erence. 

8.  But  death,  fearful,  mighty  as  is  its  power,  is  yet  a  power 
that  is  subject  to  virtue.  It  gives  victory  to  virtue.  It  brings 
relief  to  the  heart  from  its  profoundest  fear.  Yes ;  death,  dark 
power  of  earth,  though  it  seems,  does  yet  ensphere  virtue,  as  it 
were,  in  Heaven.  It  sets  it  up  on  high,  for  eternal  admiration. 
It  fixes  its  places  never  more  to  be  changed  ;  as  a  star  to  shine 
onward,  and  onward,  through  the  depths  of  the  everlasting 
aaces. 

9.  In  life  there  are  many  things  which  interfere  with  a  just 
estimate  of  the  virtues  of  others.  There  are,  in  some  cases, 
jealousies  and  misconstructions,  and  there  are  false  appear- 
ances, there  are  vails  upon  the  heart,  that  hide  its  most  secret 
workings  and  its  sweetest  affections  from  us ;  there  are  earthly 
clouds  that  come  between  us  and  the  excellence  that  we  love. 
So  that  it  is  not,  perhaps,  till  a  friend  is  taken  from  us  that  we 
entirely  feel  his  value,  and  appreciate  his  worth.  The  vision  is 
loveliest  at  its  vanishing  away ;  and  we  perceive  not,  perhaps, 
till  we  see  the  parting  wing,  that  an  angel  has  been  with  us! 

10.  Yet,  if  we  are  not,  in  any  degree,  blind  to  the  excellence 
6  possess,  if  we  do  feel  all   the  value  of  the  treasure  which 

our  affections  hold  dear, — yet,  how  does  that  earthly  excel- 
lence take  not  only  a  permanent,  but  a  saintly  character,  as  it 


FIFTH     BOOK.  873 

passes  beyond  tlic  bounds  of  mortal  frailty  and  imperfection  ! 
How  does  death  enshrine  it,  for  a  homage,  more  reverential  and 
holy  than  is  ever  given  to  living  worth ! 


LESSON   CXLIV* 
THE  GRAYE. 


ROBERT  BLAIR. 


"  Leaves  have  their  time  to  fall, 
And  flowers  to  wither  at  the  north  wind's  breath, 

And  stars  to  set, — but  all, 
Thou  hast  all  seasons  for  thine  own,  0  Death  I" 

HEMANS. 

Thrice  welcome,  Death  ! 
That,  after  many  a  painful  bleeding  step, 
Conducts  us  to  our  home,  and  lands  us  safe 
On  the  long-wish ed-for  shore.     Prodigious  change  ! 
Our  bane  turned  to  a  blessing  !  Death,  disarmed, 
Loses  his  fellness  quite  ;  all  thanks  to  Him 
Who  scourged  the  venom  out.     Sure  the  last  end 
Of  the  good  man  is  peace  !     How  calm  his  exit ! 
Night  dews  fall  not  more  gently  to  the  ground, 
Nor  weary  worn-out  winds  expire  so  soft. 

Behold  him  !  in  the  evening  tide  of  life, 
A  life  well  spent,  whose  early  care  it  was 
His  riper  years  should  not  upbraid  his  youth ; 
By  unperceived  degrees  he  wears  away  ; 
Yet,  like  the  sun,  seems  larger  at  his  setting ! 
High  in  his  faith  and  hopes,  look  how  he  reaches 
After  the  prize  in  view !  and,  like  a  bird 
That's  hampered,  struggles  hard  to  fly  away ! 
While  the  glad  gates  of  sight  are  wide  expanded 
To  let  new  glories  in,  the  first  fair  fruits 
Of  the  fast-coming  harvest.     Then,  O,  then, 
Each  earth-born  joy  grows  vile,  or  disappears, 
Shrunk  to  a  thing  of  naught !     O,  how  he  longs 
To  have  his  passport  signed,  and  be  dismissed  ! 


374  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

3.  'Tis  done, — and  now  he's  happy.     The  glad  soul 
Has  not  a  wish  uncrowned.     E'en  the  lag  flesh 
Rests,  too,  in  hope  of  meeting  once  again 

Its  better  half,  never  to  sunder  more. 

Nor  shall  it  hope  in  vain. — The  time  draws  on 

When  not  a  single  spot  of  burial  earth, 

Whether  on  land  or  in  the  spacious  sea. 

But  must  give  back  its  long-committed  dust 

Inviolate ;  and  faithfully  shall  these 

Make  up  the  full  account. 

4.  Hence,  ye  profane  ! 
Ask  not  how  this  can  be  ?     Sure  the  same  Power 
That  reared  the  piece  at  first,  and  took  it  down, 
Can  re-assemble  the  loose  scattered  parts. 

And  put  them  as  they  were.     Almighty  God 
Hath  done  much  more ;  nor  is  His  arm  impaired 
Through  length  of  days  ;  and  what  He  can,  He  will ; 
His  faithfulness  stands  bound  to  see  it  done. 

5.  When  the  dread  trumpet  sounds,  the  slumbering  dust, 
Not  unattentive  to  the  call,  shall  wake ; 

And  every  joint  possess  its  proper  place. 

With  a  new  elegance  of  form,  unknown 

To  its  first  state.     Nor  shall  the  conscious  soul 

Mistake  its  partner  ;  but,  amidst  the  crowd. 

Singling  its  other  half,  into  its  arms 

Shall  rush,  with  all  the  impatience  of  a  man 

That's  new  come  home  ;  and,  having  long  been  absent^ 

With  haste  runs  over  every  different  room. 

In  pain  to  see  the  whole.     Thrice  happy  meeting ! 

Nor  time,  nor  death,  shall  ever  part  them  more. 

6.  'Tis  but  a  night,  a  long  and  moonless  night ; 
We  make  the  grave  our  bed,  and  then  are  gone ! 
Thus,  at  the  shut  of  even,  the  weary  bird 
Leaves  the  wide  air,  and,  in  some  lonely  brake, 
Cowers  down,  and  dozes  till  the  dawn  of  day. 
Then  claps  his  well-fledged  wings,  and  soars  away. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  S75 

LESSON  CXLV* 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Tor  qua'  to  Tas'  so,  an  Italian  poet,  cele- 
brated for  his  immortal  works,  was  bora  in  1544,  His  father,  Bernardo 
Tasso,  was  also  a  poet  of  some  celebrity. 

2.  Cor  I  o'  LI,  an  ancient  town  of  Italy,  was  taken  by  the  Romans  un- 
der C.  Martius,  who  was  called,  on  that  account,  Coriolanus. 

3.  Ve'  n  was  a  powerful  city  of  Etruria,  Italy,  which  sustained  many 
long  wars  against  the  Romans,  but  was  finally  taken  and  destroyed  by 
Camtllds,  after  a  siege  of  ten  years.  At  the  time  of  its  destruction,  Veii 
was  larger  and  more  magnifloent  than  Rome. 

ADVANTAGES  OF  SMALL  STATES. 

ALISON. 

1.  The  history  of  mankind,  from  its  earliest  period  to  the 
present  moment,  is  fraught  with  proofs  of  the  one  general  truth 
that  it  is  in  small  states,  and  in  consequence  of  the  emulation 
and  ardent  spirit  which  they  develop,  that  the  human  mind 
arrives  at  its  greatest  perfection,  and  that  the  freest  scope  is  af- 
forded both  to  the  grandeur  of  moral,  and  the  brilliancy  of  in- 
tellectual character.  It  is  to  the  citizens  of  small  republics, 
that  we  are  indebted  both  for  the  greatest  discoveries  which 
have  improved  the  condition,  or  elevated  the  character  of 
mankind,  and  for  the  noblest  examples  of  private  and  public 
virtue,  with  which  the  page  of  history  is  adorned. 

2.  It  was  in  the  republics  of  ancient  Greece,  and  in  conse- 
quence of  the  emulation  which  was  excited  among  her  rival 
cities,  that  the  beautiful  arts  of  poetry,  sculpture,  and  architect- 
ure, were  first  brought  to  perfection  ;  and,  while  the  genius  of 
the  human  race  was  slumbering  among  the  innumerable  mul- 
titudes of  the  Persian  and  Indian  monarchies,  the  single  city 
of  Athens  produced  a  succession  of  great  men,  whose  works 
have  improved  and  delighted  the  world  in  every  succeeding 
age. 

3.  While  the  vast  feudal  monarchies  of  Europe  were  buried 
in  ignorance  and  barbarism,  the  little  states  of  Florence,  Bo- 
logna, Rome,  and  Venice,  were  far  advanced  in  the  career  of 
arts,  and  in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  ;  and,  at  this  moment, 
the  traveler  neglects  the  boundless  but  unknown  tracts  of  Ger- 


876  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

many  and  France,  to  visit  the  tombs  of  Eapliael,  and  Micliael 
Angelo,  and  Tasso,"  to  dwell  in  a  country  where  every  city  and 
every  landscape  reminds  him  of  the  greatness  of  human  genius 
or  the  perfection  of  human  taste. 

4.  It  is  from  the  same  cause  that  the  earlier  history  of  the 
Swiss  Confederacy  exhibits  a  firmness  and  grandeur  of  politi- 
cal character,  which  we  search  for  in  vain  in  the  annals  of  the 
great  monarchies,  by  which  they  are  surrounded, — that  the 
classical  pilgrim  pauses  awhile  in  his  journey  to  the  Eternal 
City,  to  do  homage  to  the  spirit  of  its  early  republics,  and  sees 
not  in  the  ruins  which,  at  the  termination  of  his  pilgrimage? 
surround  him,  the  remains  of  Imperial  Rome,  the  mistress  and 
the  capital  of  the  world  ;  but  of  Rome,  when  struggling  with 
Corioli'^  and  Veii';  of  Rome,  when  governed  by  Regulus  and 
Cincinnatus  ; — and  traces  the  scene  of  her  infant  wars  with  the 
Latian  tribes,  with  a  pious  interest,  which  all  the  pomp  and 
magnificence  of  her  subsequent  history,  have  not  been  able  to 
excite. 


LESSON    CXLVU 


Explanatory  Note. — The  Castle  of  Chillon  is  situated  at  one  ex- 
tremity of  Lake  Geneva,,  Switzerland.  Below  it,  washinjj  its  walls,  the 
lake  has  been  fatliomed  to  the  depth  of  several  hundred  feet.  Within  it 
is  a  range  of  dungeons,  in  which  the  early  Reformers,  and  afterward  pris* 
oners  of  state,  were  confined. 


THE  PRISONER  OP  CHILLON. 

Eternal  Spirit  of  the  chainless  mind  I 
Brightest  in  dungeons,  Liberty,  thou  art, 
For  there  thy  habitation  is  the  heart, — 

The  heart  which  love  of  thee  alone  can  bind. 

They  chained  us  each  to  a  column  stone, 
And  we  were  three, — yet  each  alone ; 
We  could  not  move  a  single  pace, 
We  could  not  see  each  other's  face. 
But  with  that  pale  and  livid  light 
That  made  us  strangers  in  our  sight ; 


BYBON. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  377 

And  thus  together, — yet  apart, 
Fettered  in  hand,  but  pined  in  heart ; 
'Twas  still  some  solace,  in  the  dearth 
Of  the  pure  elements  of  earth, 
To  hearken  to  each  other's  speech, 
And  each  turn  comforter  to  each 
AVith  some  new  hope,  or  legend  old, 
But  even  these,  at  length,  grew  cold. 

I  was  the  eldest  of  the  three, 

And  to  uphold  and  cheer  the  rest, 

I  ought  to  do, — and  did  my  best, — 
And  each  did  well  in  his  degree. 

The  youngest,  whom  my  father  loved, 
Because  my  mother's  brow  was  given 
To  him, — with  eyes  as  blue  as  heaven, 

For  him  my  soul  was  sorely  moved  ; 
For  he  was  beautiful  as  day, 
And,  in  his  natural  spirit,  gay  ; 
With  tears  for  naught  but  others'  ills 
And  then  they  flowed  like  mountain  rills, 
Unless  he  could  assuage  the  woe 
Which  he  abhorred  to  view  below. 

The  other  was  as  pure  of  mind. 
But  formed  to  combat  with  his  kind  ; 
Strong  in  his  frame,  and  of  a  mood 
Which  'gainst  the  world  in  war  had  stood, 
And  perished  in  the  foremost  rank 

With  joy  ;  but  not  in  chains  to  pine, — 
His  spirit  withered  with  their  clank, — 

I  saw  it  silently  decline. 

He  loathed  and  put  away  his  food, — 
It  was  not  that  'twas  coarse  and  rude, 
For  we  were  used  to  hunters'  fare, 
And  for  the  like  had  little  care  ; 
The  milk  drawn  from  the  mountain  goat, 
Was  changed  for  water  from  the  moat ; 


378  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Our  bread  was  such  as  captives'  tears 
Have  moistened  many  a  thousand  years, 
Since  man  first  pent  his  fellow-men 
Like  brutes  within  an  iron  den. 
But  what  were  these  to  us  or  him  ? 
These  wasted  not  his  heart  or  limb ; 
My  brother's  soul  was  of  that  mold, 
Which  in  a  palace  had  grown  cold, 
Had  his  free  breathing  been  denied 
The  range  of  the  steep  mountain's  side  ; 
But  why  delay  the  truth  ? — he  died. 

5.  I  saw,  and  could  not  hold  his  head. 
Nor  reach  his  dying  hand, — nor  dead, — 
Though  hard  I  strove,  but  strove  in  vain, 
To  rend  and  gnash  my  bonds  in  twain. 
He  died, — and  they  unlocked  his  chain, 
And  scooped  for  him  a  shallow  grave, 
Even  from  the  cold  earth  of  our  cave. 

6.  I  begged  them,  as  a  boon,  to  lay 
His  corse  in  dust  whereon  the  day 
Might  shine, — it  was  a  foolish  thought, — 
But  then  within  my  brain  it  wrought. 
That  even  in  death  his  freeborn  breast 
In  such  a  dungeon  could  not  rest. 

I  might  have  spared  my  idle  prayer, — 
They  coldly  laughed, — and  laid  him  there  ; 
The  flat  and  turfless  earth  above 
The  being  we  so  much  did  love, — 
His  empty  chain  above  it  leant. 
Such  murder's  fitting  monument. 

1.  But  he,  the  favorite  and  the  flower. 
Most  cherished  since  his  natal  hour, 
His  martyred  father's  dearest  thought, 
My  latest  care,  for  whom  I  sought 
To  hoard  my  life,  that  his  might  be 
Less  wretched  now,  and  one  day  free  ; 


FIFTH    BOOK.  379 

He,  too,  was  struck,  and  day  by  day 
Was  withered  on  the  stalk  away. 

8.  O  God  !  it  is  a  fearful  thing 

To  see  the  human  soul  take  wing, 
In  any  shape,  in  any  mood ; — 
I've  seen  it  rushing  forth  in  blood  ; 
I've  seen  the  sick  and  ghastly  bed 
Of  sin  delirious  with  its  dread ; — 
But  these  were  horrors, — this  was  woe 
Unmixed  with  such, — but  sure  and  slow. 

9.  (^.)  He  faded,  and  so  calm  and  meek. 

So  softly  wan,  so  sweetly  weak, 
So  tearless,  yet  so  tender, — kind. 
And  grieved  for  those  he  left  behind  ; 
With  all  the  while  a  cheek,  whose  bloom 
Was  as  a  mockery  of  the  tomb. 
Whose  tints  as  gently  sunk  away 
As  a  departing  rainbow's  ray  ; 
An  eye  of  most  transparent  light, 
That  almost  made  the  dungeon  bright. 

10.  And  then  the  sighs  he  would  suppress 

Of  fainting  nature's  feebleness  ; 
I  listened,  but  I  could  not  hear, — 
I  called,  for  I  was  wild  with  fear ; 
I  called,  and  thought  I  heard  a  sound, — 
I  burst  my  chain  with  one  strong  bound, 
And  rushed  to  him. — I  found  him  not, 
/  only  stirred  in  this  black  spot, 
/  only  lived, — /  only  drew 
The  accursed  breath  of  dungeon  dew, 
The  last, — the  sole, — the  dearest  link, 
Between  me  and  the  eternal  brink. 
Which  bound  me  to  my  failing  race, 
Was  broken  in  this  fatal  place. 


380  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON  CXLVIU 

THE    PRISONER    OP    CHILLON.— Coktinued. 

BYKOlf. 

1.  What  next  befell  me  tlien  and  tliere, 

I  know  not  well, — I  never  knew, — 
First  came  the  loss  of  light  and  air, 

And  then  of  darkness,  too. 
There  were  no  stars, — no  earth, — no  time, — 
No  check, — no  change, — no  good, — no  crime  ; 
But  silence,  and  a  stirless  breath 
Which  neither  was  of  life  nor  death. 

2.  A  light  broke  in  upon  my  brain, — 

It  was  the  carol  of  a  bird ; 
It  ceased, — and  then  it  came  again, 

The  sweetest  song  ear  ever  heard  ; 
And  mine  was  thankful  till  my  eyes 
Ran  over  with  the  glad  surprise  ; 
But  then,  by  dull  degrees,  came  back 
My  senses  to  their  wonted  track  ; 
I  saw  the  dungeon  walls  and  floor 
Close  slowly  round  me  as  before,' 
I  saw  the  glimmer  of  the  sun, 
Creeping  as  it  before  had  done ; 
But,  through  the  crevice  where  it  came. 
That  bird  was  perched  as  fond  and  tame, 

And  tamer  than  upon  the  tree, — 
A  lovely  bird  with  azure  wings, 
And  song  that  said  a  thousand  things, 

And  seemed  to  say  them  all  for  me ! 

3.  I  sometimes  deemed  that  it  might  be 
My  brother's  soul  come  down  to  me ; 
But  then,  at  last,  away  it  flew,  — 
And  then  'twas  mortal, — well  I  knew  ; 
For  he  would  never  thus  have  flown, 
And  left  me  twice  so  doubly  lone. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  381 

4.  A  kind  of  change  came  in  my  fate 
My  keepers  grew  compassionate. 

I  know  not  what  had  made  them  so, 
They  were  inured  to  sights  of  woe  ; 
But  so  it  was ; — my  broken  chain 
With  links  unfastened  did  remain; 
And  it  was  liberty  to  stride 
Along  my  cell,  from  side  to  side, 
Avoiding  only,  as  I  trod, 
My  brothers'  graves  without  a  sod. 

5.  I  made  a  footing  in  the  wall, — 

It  was  not  therefrom  to  escape  ; 
For  I  had  buried  one  and  all 

Who  loved  me  in  a  human  shape  ; 
And  the  whole  earth  would  henceforth  be 
A  wider  prison  unto  me  ; 
But  I  was  curious  to  ascend 
To  my  barred  windows,  and  to  bend 
Once  more,  upon  the  mountains  high 
The  quiet  of  a  loving  eye. 

6.  I  saw  them,  and  they  were  the  same, 
They  were  not  changed  like  me  in  frame ; 
I  saw  their  thousand  years  of  snow 

On  high, — their  wide,  long  lake  below ; 
And  then  there  was  a  little  isle, 
Which  in  my  very  face  did  smile, 
The  only  one  in  view. 

7.  The  fish  swam  by  the  castle  wall, 
And  they  seemed  joyous,  each  and  all ; 
The  eagle  rode  the  rising  blast, — 
Methought  he  never  flew  so  fast 

As  then  to  me  he  seemed  to  fly  ; 
And  then  new  tears  came  in  my  eye, 
And  I  felt  troubled, — and  would  fain 
I  had  not  left  my  recent  chain ; 
And  when  I  did  descend  again, 


882  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

The  darkness  of  my  dim  abode, 
Fell  on  me  as  a  heavy  load ; 
It  was  as  is  a  new-dug  grave, 
Closing  o'er  one  we  sought  to  save. 

8.  At  last,  men  came  to  set  us  free ; 

I  asked  not  why,  and  recked  not  where ; 
It  was,  at  length,  the  same  to  me. 
Fettered  or  fetterless  to  be  ; 

I  learned  to  love  despair. 
And  thus,  when  they  appeared,  at  last, 
And  all  my  bonds  aside  were  cast. 
These  heavy  walls  to  me  had  grown 
A  hermitage, — and  all  my  own ! 
And  half  I  felt  as  they  were  come 
To  tear  me  from  a  second  home ! 

9.  With  spiders  I  had  friendship  made. 

And  watched  them  in  their  sullen  trade, — 
Had  seen  the  mice  by  moonlight  play, 
And  why  should  I  feel  less  than  they  ? 
We  were  all  inmates  of  one  place, 
And  I,  the  monarch  of  each  race. 
Had  power  to  kill, — yet,  strange  to  tell ! 
In  quiet  we  had  learned  to  dwell ; 
My  very  chains  and  I  grew  friends. 
So  much  a  long  communion  tends 
To  make  us  what  we  are  : — even  I 
Eegained  my  freedom  with  a  sigh. 


LESSON    CXLVnU 


INSUFFICIENCY    OF    NATURAL    RELIGION. 

COLLTEB. 

1.  If  Natural  Relig-ion  is  a  sufficient  revelation,  and  no  other 
is  necessary,  it  has  been  written  with  a  sunbeam  upon  all  lands, 
■ — it  has  been  inscribed  from  the  beginning  of  the  creation 
upon  the  face  of  the  glorious  orb  of  day.     But  what  is  the  re- 


FIFTH     BOOK.  383 

suit  ?  Wlaat  has  Natural  Religion  eftected,  in  any,  in  every 
age  ? — in  any,  in  every  country  ?  "  The  heavens  declare  the 
glory  of  God,  and  the  firmament  showeth  his  handiwork  ;"  but 
"  the  world  by  wisdom  knew  not  God  ;"  they  "  worshiped  and 
served  the  creature  more  than  the  Creator ;"  they  fell  down  to 
the  hosts  of  heaven ;  or  "  changed  the  glory  of  the  incorrupt- 
ible God  into  an  image  made  like  to  corruptible  man,  and  to 
birds,  and  four-footed  beasts,  and  creeping  things." 

2.  Now  call  for  Natural  Religion,  and  she  shall  answer  you 
from  the  depths  of  the  forest  and  the  summits  of  the  mount- 
ains ;  from  the  sea,  and  from  the  shore  ;  from  the  crowded 
city,  and  the  uncultivated  desert ;  from  the  hut  of  the  savage, 
and  the  dome  of  the  monarch  ; — everywhere  her  altars  are 
planted,  and  her  worship  maintained.  Her  influence  and  her 
footsteps  may  be  traced  on  the  face  of  the  whole  earth,  in  bar- 
barous rites,  revolting  superstitions,  and  disgusting  obscenities ; 
in  all  the  forms  of  idolatry,  from  the  feathered  gods  of  the 
islands  of  the  south-sea,  to  the  misshapen  logs  of  Africa,  up  to 
the  three  hundred  and  thirty-three  thousand  deities  of  philo- 
sophic India. 

3.  Would  you  see  her  in  her  own  person?  Bid  her  come 
forth, — she  appears  "  in  garments  rolled  in  blood ;"  "  the  bat- 
tle of  the  warrior  with  confused  noise,"  rages  around  her ;  her 
children  drop  into  the  fires,  kindled  to  her  honor ;  human  vic- 
tims are  slaughtered  on  the  altars  raised  to  her  praise,  or  crush- 
ed beneath  the  ponderous  car,  upon  which  she  sits  enthroned. 
Around  her,  dying  cries  and  agonizing  shrieks  mingle  with  loud 
acclamations  and  frantic  songs ;  her  look  withers  the  country, 
and  depopulates  the  city, 

4.  This  is  Natural  Religion,  and  not  as  she  came  from  +he 
hands  of  God,  the  witness  of  his  eternal  power  and  Godhead , 
but  as  she  is  deformed  by  the  passions  of  men,  and  debased  by 
their  corruptions ;  not  as  "  the  image  of  the  invisible  Creator," 
but  as  the  idol  of  the  fallen  and  depraved  creature.  Yet,  this 
is  Natural  Religion,  stained  with  gore,  and  foul  with  crimes,  not 
depicted  by  fancy,  but  demonstrated  by  fact, — by  facts  drawn 
from  all  climes  and  from  all  generations. 


884:  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

5.  But  Reason  was  to  have  rectified  these  errors ;  reason 
■was  to  sit  supreme,  enshrined  in  the  light  of  Natural  Eeligion, 
the  arbitress  of  human  destinies.  To  her  was  intrusted  the 
key  of  knowledge,  to  unlock  and  dispense  the  riches  of  the 
universe.  She  was  to  be  the  architect,  rearing  a  structure  of 
happiness  and  of  virtue,  under  which  man  should  repose,  and 
a  temple  of  religion,  in  which  he  should  worship.  She  was  to 
be  the  polar-star,  upon  which  fixing  a  steady  eye,  he  might 
safely  sail  over  the  stormy  sea  of  life,  and  find  a  port  of  rest 
at  last.  But  the  light  of  the  star  is  obscured ;  the  plans  of  the 
architect  are  marred ;  the  key  of  knowledge  is  mislaid ;  the 
arbitress  of  man's  fate  is  dethroned. 

6.  How  is  it  she  has  lost  her  high  prerogative,  and  suffered 
her  authority  to  be  overthrown  ?  How  is  it  that  she  has  fallen 
from  her  pinnacle  of  glory  ?  She  was  beguiled  by  sense. 
"The  invisible  things  of  Him  from  the  creation  of  the  world, 
are  clearly  seen,  being  understood  by  the  things  that  are  made, 
even  His  eternal  power  and  Godhead."  But  when  men  be- 
came vain  in  their  imaginations, — their  foolish  heart  was  dark- 
ened ;  and  professing  themselves  to  be  wise,  they  became  fools» 

*1.  But  Philosophy  is  to  restore  the  reign  of  Natural  Relig- 
ion, of  reason,  of  conscience,  and  of  virtue.  Were  Greece  and 
Rome,  then,  barbarians  ?  Were  they  ignorant  of  philosophy  ? 
or  was  the  experiment  not  made  ?  It  was  not  in  a  desert,  sur- 
rounded by  savages,  but  in  the  center  of  Athens,  encircled  by 
philosophers,  that  Paul  stood  amidst  the  monuments  and  upon 
a  mount  of  idolatry, — although  a  court,  and  the  highest  court 
of  justice,  evincing  how  closely  allied  the  civil  government  was 
with  their  debasing  superstitions, — and  pointed  to  an  altar  in- 
scribed : — "  To  the  unknown  Ood^ 

8,  Such  is  the  true  character*of  every  altar  which  reason 
and  philosophy,  and  Natural  Religion,  unaided  by  revelation, 
have  raised,  although  all  do  not  bear  the  same  inscription. 
These  are  the  altars  which  the  missionary  of  the  Gospel  is 
hastening  to  overthrow,  to  plant  the  cross  in  their  place,  and 
to  proclaim  to  the  poor  idolater  : — "  Whom,  therefore,  ye  igno- 
rantly  worship.  Him  declare  I  unto  you." 


FIFTH     BOOK.  385 

9.  And  is  it  not  to  men  like  these,  the  mighty  minds  of  de- 
parted ages,  who  sought  after  truth,  but  missed  it,  because  they 
lacked  the  guiding  ray  of  revelation, — is  it  not  to  men  like 
these,  that  infidels  of  the  present  day  appeal,  acknowledging 
them  as  masters,  and  adopting  their  system, — men  who,  if  they 
now  lived,  would  be  ashamed  of  their  professed  scholars  ?  If, 
among  such  men,  Natural  Religion,  and  reason,  and  conscience, 
and  philosophy,  all  proved  an  unequal  guard  against  the  pas- 
sions of  a  corrupt  nature,  and  a  guide,  absolutely  insufficient 
through  the  mazes  of  ignorance,  to  the  throne  of  God, — if,  in 
such  hands,  the  grand  experiment  altogether  failed,  what  fur- 
ther pretensions  have  modern  philosophers,  the  opposers  of 
revelation,  to  advance  ? 

10.  They  will  not  dare  to  tell  you  that  it  has  been  denied 
either  time  or  space ;  it  has  been  made  nearly  six  thousand 
years,  from  the  fall  of  man  to  the  present  time, — it  has  been 
made  by  the  intellectual  giants  of  the  olden  time.  They  will 
not  dare  to  tell  you  that  the  results  have  ever  been  diflcrent 
from  those  which  we  have  stated.  They  will  not  dare  to  deny, 
that  such  is,  at  this  moraeut,  the  aggregate  of  the  experiment 
nov/  trying,  among  all  states,  whether  savage  or  civilized, 
which  revelation  has  not  reached. 

11.  I  disdain  to  contrast  the  intellectual  and  moral  influence 
of  Christianity,  wherever  it  extends,  with  the  scenes  of  horror 
and  degradation,  to  which  I  have  alluded ;  but  I  demand  of 
infidel  opponents  to  explain,  if  they  can,  by  what  fatality,  or 
by  what  chance,  it  occurs,  that  their  efforts  to  elevate  the  mor- 
al condition  of  man,  have  never  succeeded,  and  that  those  of 
Christianity  have  never  failed. 


LESsfti    CXLIX> 

EFFECTS   OF    CHRISTIANITY. 

WATSON. 

1.  The  religion  of  Christ  is  a  religion  of  love;  its  law  is 
the  law  of  kindness,  and  its  exercises  are  the  exercises  of  benev- 
olence.    It  shuns  the  parade  of  grandeur,  the  circle  of  pleas- 

17 


886  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

ure,  and  delights  to  visit  the  abodes  of  misery  and  the  retreats 
of  sorrow.  It  withdraws  the  curtains  of  atfliction,  and  whis- 
pers its  consolations  to  the  mind,  and  administers  relief  to  the 
wants  of  the  dejected  sufferer. 

2.  Upon  every  institution  which  has  for  its  object  the  ame- 
lioration of  the  condition,  and  the  increase  of  the  civil  and 
moral  happiness,  of  man,  it  smiles  approbation,  and  commands 
support.  What  proves  that  Christianity  is  of  God  more  forci- 
bly than  that  it  is  the  express  image  of  Him  who  is  "  abundant 
in  goodness  and  truth  ?"  Does  any  other  religion  pretend  to 
be  of  God  ?     *'  Show  us  the  image  and  superscription." 

3.  Paganism  could  boast  of  her  solemn  temples,  her  magnif- 
icent palaces,  her  splendid  mausoleums,  and  her  triumphal 
arches ;  but  Christianity  displays  her  alms-houses,  her  hospi- 
tals, her  asylums,  and  her  various  charitable  societies.  Such 
institutions,  honor  and  recommend  Christianity,  because  they 
are  its  effects  and  distinguishing  characteristics. 

4.  Paganism  could  glory  in  her  heroes,  her  lawgivers,  her 
philosophers,  her  orators,  and  her  poets ;  but  Christianity  ex- 
hibits a  Founder  who  went  about  doing  good,  and  disciples,  in 
every  age,  who  have  devoted  their  time,  their  talents,  their 
property,  and  their  influence,  to  instruct  and  bless  mankind. 


LESSON    CL+ 
THE  LORD,  THE  KING  OF  GLORY. 

BIBLB. 

The  earth  is  the  Lord's,  and  the  fullness  thereof' 

The  world  and  they  that  dwell  therein. 

For  he  hath  founded  it  upon  the  seas. 

And  established  it  upon  the#oods. 

Who  shall  ascend  into  the  hill  of  the  Lord  ? 

And  who  shall  stand  in  His  holy  place  ? 

He  that  hath  clean  hands,  and  a  pure  heart ; 

Who  hath  not  lifted  up  his  soul  unto  vanity, 

Nor  sworn  deceitfully. 

He  shall  receive  the  blessing  from  the  Lord, 


FIFTH     BOOK.  387 

And  rigLteoiisness  from  tlie  God  of  his  salvation. 
This  is  the  generation  of  them  that  seek  Him, 
That  seek  thy  face,  O  Jacob.     Selah. 

Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates ! 

And  be  ye  Hft  up,  ye  everlasting  doors ; 

And  the  King  of  glory  shall  come  in. 

Who  is  the  King  of  glory  ? 

The  Lord  strong  and  mighty, 

The  Lord  mighty  in  battle. 

Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates  ! 

Even  lift  them  up,  ye  everlasting  doors ; 

And  the  King  of  glory  shall  come  in. 

Who  is  the  King  of  glory  ? 

The  Lord  of  hosts.  He  is  the  King  of  glory.     Selahi 


LESSON  CLU 
Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  Mo'  loch  was  an  iron  idol  (mentioned  in  the 
7th  verse  of  the  11th  chapter  of  1  Kings,)  with  a  human  body,  the  head 
of  an  ox,  and  extended  arms.  The  statue  was  heated  by  fire  in  the  low- 
er part,  and  children  were  placed,  as  offerings,  in  the  arms  of  the  horrid 
image,  where  they  perished,  while  their  cries  were  drowned  with  the  noise 
of  musical  instruments. 

2.  The  Goths  were  a  German  tribe  who  appeared  under  that  name  in 
the  year  215,  from  which  time  they  filled  all  Europe  with  then-  fame,  till 
the  year  500.  After  other  tribes  were  incorporated  with  them,  they 
came  into  hostihty  with  Eome  and  Constantinople,  both  of  which  were 
soon  compelled  to  pay  them  tribute.  After  various  vicissitudes,  they  in- 
vaded Italy,  and,  by  that  measure,  brought  on  the  destruction  of  the  Roman 
Empire. 

3.  The  Huns  were  a  powerful  nation  of  northern  Asia ;  but,  on  account 
of  internal  dissensions,  they  were  overcome  by  the  Chinese.  After  tliis 
they  settled  near  the  Caspian  ^ff^.  They  came  into  collision  with  the 
Goths,  which  produced  a  general  eruption  of  the  barbarians.  They  were 
somethnes  at  war  with  the  Romans,  and,  at  other  times,  served  under 
their  standard. 

4.  Ri  EN'  zi  became  celebrated  in  the  fourteenth  century  by  his  attempt 
to  restore  the  Roman  Republic.  Though  he  became  extensively  popular, 
yet  he  finally  lost  the  affection  of  the  people,  and  when  he  was  massa- 
cred by  a  sedition  excited  by  the  nobles  against  liim,  his  remains  were 
treated  with  indignity. 


388  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

ROME. 

J.  AUGUSTUS  MAYNARD. 

1.  Great  Rome  !  imperial  city !  thou  hast  been 
Italia's  ruler,  and  the  world's  proud  queen  ; 
Strongly  thou  rear'dst  thy  monumental  stones, 
Unrivaled  mistress  of  a  thousand  thrones  ! 
But  now  they  totter  like  thine  own  high  pride, 
While  foes  around  exultingly  deride  ; 

And  pilgrims  from  each  far  barbaric  land, 
Smile  as  beneath  thy  crumbling  towers  they  stand ; 
For  now  no  more  they  quail  beneath  the  star 
Which  beamed  above  thy  Cesarean  car  ! 
No  more  they  view  Augustan  pomp  display 
Thy  triumphs  grand  along  the  crowded  way. 

2.  Thou  Moloch' !  lo  !  upon  thy  crimsoned  shrine, 
The  blood  of  nations  cried  'gainst  thee  and  thine ; 
Till  retribution,  with  uplifted  hand, 

Snatched  from  thy  vengeful  grasp  the  murd'rous  brand. 

And  crushed,  with  inextinguishable  hate. 

The  guilty  power  which  laid  earth  desolate. 

The  teeming  North  sent  forth  her  famished  brave, 

The  Goth''  and  Hun,'  to  delve  thy  glory's  grave ; 

And  those  who  long  were  scorned,  struck  home  the  blow 

Which  laid,  at  last,  th'  Eternal  City  low, — 

And  bade  the  thunder-borne,  re-echoing  name 

Shrink  to  a  whisper  of  departed  fame. 

3.  Yet,  'midst  thy  ruins,  phantom-like,  arise 
Memorials  of  the  brave,  the  great,  the  wise  ; 
Yes,  memory  hath  embalmed  thy  mighty  name, 
And  breathes  around  thy  hnis  undying  fame ; 
Remembrance  sacred  makes  thy  deep  distress, 
And  throws  a  halo  round  thy  wretchedness ! 
Thou,  too,  Rienzi,^  last  of  Rome's  great  chiefs, 
Who,  'midst  the  pressure  of  her  mighty  griefs, 
Stoodst  forth  alone  to  raise  her  drooping  power, 
Shouting  that  name  which  made  the  nations  cower. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  389 

Whicli  nerved  a  Brutus  to  tlie  desperate  deed,* 
Which  'venged  a  Pompey,  and  made  a  Caesar  bleed. 

What  though  the  mighty  spirit  surely  knew 

To  curb  tumultuous  factions  as  they  grew  ? 

What  though  thou  snapp'dst  asunder  the  dark  chain 

Of  Despotism's  most  detested  reign  ? 

How  wert  thou  'quited  ?     History  shall  respond  : — 

*'  Rome  was  ingrate,  and  thou,  alas  !  too  fond  ! 

Forth  from  her  streets  with  thee  forever  fled 

The  ling'ring  spirits  of  her  mighty  dead." 


LESSON   CLIU 

DETRACTION. 

Ease  envy,  with'ring  at  another's  joy, 
"Which  hates  the  excellence  it  can't  destroy. 

1.  Speech, — that  delightful  channel  of  thought, — that  elec 
trie  chain  of  society,  by  which  the  animating  thrill  and  simul- 
taneous glow  of  reciprocated  sentiments  and  feelings,  are  felt, 
— that  choice  gift  of  Providence,  which  so  eminently  distin- 
guishes man  from  the  mere  animal  creation, — is,  too  often, 
prostituted  to  the  worst  of  purposes.  Detraction  enters  the 
loveliest  scenes  of  human  excellence  and  domestic  bliss,  and 
there,  beneath  the  flowers  of  Eden  itself,  awaits  an  opportu- 
nity of  darting  forth  from  her  concealment,  to  infix  her  poison- 
ous fangs  in  the  heart  of  her  innocent  victims. 

2.  Detraction  seldom  comes  to  the  light,  and  innuendo^  is  a 
form  of  speech,  with  which  she  is  particularly  conversant. 
For  her  features  are  so  revolting,  when  seen  in  their  native 
form,  and  her  voice  so  discordant  and  disgusting,  when  she 
speaks  openly  and  without  reserve,  that  it  is  some  time  since 
she  saw  the  necessity  of  altering  her  plans. 

3.  It  happened  on  a  certain  occasion  when  Detraction  was 
privily  on  the  alert,  watching  an  opportunity  for  eff"ecting  her 

*  See  Note  1,  page  194. 

•[  Innuendo,  an  oblique  hint ;  a  remote  intimation. 


390  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

malevolent  designs,  tliat  Candor  appeared,  and  so  angelic  was 
lier  mien,  and  melodious  her  voice,  that  many  were  enamored 
with  her  person,  and  hung  with  rapture  on  her  lips.  While 
she  spake,  a  holy  serenity  reigned  around ;  the  very  air  was 
impregnated  with  the  balmy  odors  she  shook  from  her  win,gs, 
— the  sweet  influence  of  amity  and  love  was  felt  by  each  heart, 
and  beamed  in  every  eye. 

4.  It  seemed  as  though  the  Prince  of  Peace  was  again  ush- 
ered into  the  world,  and  the  cherubic  band  had  once  more  at- 
tuned their  harps  to  the  heart-ravishing  song  : — "  Peace  on 
earth  ;  good  will  toward  men  !"  Detraction  retired  in  confu- 
sion, she  could  not  endure  the  music,  nor  exist  in  such  an  at- 
mosphere. But  though  foiled,  and  greatly  chagrined  at  the 
success  of  her  rival,  she  continued  unconquered, — still  she  re- 
tained her  enmity,  and,  to  accomplish  her  design,  had  recourse 
to  stratagem, 

5.  She  determined  to  construct  and  henceforth  wear  a  mask 
in  imitation  of  the  features  of  Candor,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
to  affect,  as  well  as  she  could,  the  silvery  tones  of  her  voice. 
And  in  this  visor,*  and  with  borrowed  language,  she  now  gen- 
erally appears.  We  often  hear  her  descant  with  much  as- 
sumed kindness,  and  apparent  good  nature,  on  the  excellen- 
cies of  an  individual,  till  she  arrives  at  the  close  of  a  sentence, 
which  is  usually  rounded  by  some  emphatic  and  fearfully  ex- 
pressive monosyllable.  Thus  the  best  of  characters  are,  too 
often,  assassinated  by  the  hand  of  affected  friendship,  just  as 
Joab  said  to  Amasaf  : — "  Art  thou  in  health,  my  brother  ?"  and 
while  he  saluted,  slew  him. 


LESSON   CLIIU 

Explanatory  Note. — 1.  Quar'  an  tisb,  properly  signifying  forty,  is  a 
term  appropriated  to  the  period  of  forty  days,  during  which  a  ship  arri- 
ving in  port,  and  suspected  of  being  infected  with  a  malignant,  contagious 
disease,  is  obliged  to  forbear  all  intercourse  M'ith  the  city  or  place.  The 
period  of  restraint,  however,  is  usually  determined  by  the  proper  oiBcers. 


*  YisoE  is  a  head-piece  or  mask,  used  as  a  disguise. 
f  Consult  2  Samuel,  20th  Chapter,  9th  and  10th  verses. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  391 

VAIiUE   OF   REPUTATION. 

PHILLIPS. 

1.  Who  shall  estimate  tlie  cost  of  priceless  reputation, — 
that  impress  which  gives  this  human  dross  its  currency, — with- 
out which  we  stand  despised,  debased,  depreciated?  Who 
shall  repair  it  injured?  Who  can  redeem  it  lost?  O,  well 
and  truly  does  the  great  philosopher  of  poetry  esteem  the 
world's  wealth  as  "trash"  in  the  comparison.  Without  it 
gold  has  no  value ;  birth,  no  distinction ;  station,  no  dignity ; 
beauty,  no  charm  ;  age,  no  reverence ; — without  it  every  treas- 
ure impoverishes,  every  grace  deforms,  every  dignity  de- 
grades, and  all  the  arts,  the  decorations,  and  accomplishments 
of  life,  stand,  like  the  beacon-blaze  upon  a  rock,  warning  the 
world  that  its  approach  is  dangerous, — that  its  contact  is 
death. 

2.  The  wretch,  without  it,  is  under  eternal  quarantine^; — no 
friend  to  greet, — no  home  to  harbor  him.  The  voyage  of  his 
life  becomes  a  joyless  peril ;  and,  in  the  midst  of  all  ambition 
can  achieve,  or  avarice  amass,  or  rapacity  plunder,  he  tosses 
on  the  surge, — a  buoyant  pestilence.  But,  let  me  not  degrade 
into  selfishness  of  individual  safety,  or  individual  exposure, 
this  universal  principle ;  it  testifies  a  higher,  a  more  ennobling 
orio;in. 

3.  It  is  this  which,  consecrating  the  humble  circle  of  the 
hearth,  will,  at  times,  extend  itself  to  the  circumference  of  the 
horizon, — which  nerves  the  arm  of  the  patriot  to  save  his 
country, — which  lights  the  lamp  of  the  philosopher  to  amend 
man, — which,  if  it  does  not  inspire,  will  yet  invigorate  the 
martyr  to  merit  immortality, — which,  when  one  world's  agony 
is  passed,  and  the  glory  of  another  is  dawning,  will  prompt  the 
prophet,  even  in  his  chariot  of  fire,  and  in  his  vision  of  Heaven, 
to  bequeath  to  mankind  the  mantle  of  his  memory  ! 

4.  O  divine,  0  delightful  legacy  of  a  spotless  reputation! 
Rich  is  the  inheritance  it  leaves  ;  pious  the  example  it  testifies ; 
pure,  precious,  and  imperishable,  the  hope  which  it  inspires ! 
Can  there  be  conceived  a  more  atrocious  injury  than  to  filch 
from  its  possessor  this  inestimable  benefit, — to  rob  society  of 


392  SANDERS''    KEW     SERIES. 

its  cliarm,  and  solitude  of  its  solace ;  not  only  to  outlaw  life, 
but  to  attaint  deatli,  converting  the  very  grave,  the  refuge  of 
the  sufferer,  into  the  gate  of  infamy  and  of  shame  ! 

5.  I  can  conceive  few  crimes  beyond  it.  He  who  plunders 
my  property  takes  from  me  that  which  can  be  repaired  by 
time ;  but  what  period  can  repair  a  ruined  reputation  ?  He 
who  maims  my  person,  affects  that  which  medicine  may  rem- 
edy; but  what  herb  has  sovereignty  over  the  wounds  of 
slander?  He  who  ridicules  my  poverty,  or  reproaches  my 
profession,  upbraids  me  with  that  whicli  industry  may  retrieve, 
and  integrity  may  purify;  but  what  riches  shall  redeem  the 
bankrupt  fame  ?  What  power  shall  blanch  the  sullied  snow 
of  character  ?  There  can  be  no  injury  more  deadly.  There 
can  be  no  crime  more  cruel.  It  is  without  remedy.  It  is 
without  antidote.     It  is  without  evasion. 

6.  The  reptile,  calumny,  is  ever  on  the  watch.  From  the 
fascinations  of  its  eye  no  activity  can  escape ;  from  the  venom 
of  its  fang  no  sanity  can  recover.  It  has  no  enjoyment  but 
crime ;  it  has  no  prey  but  virtue ;  it  has  no  interval  from  the 
restlessness  of  its  malice,  save  when,  bloated  with  its  victims,  it 
grovels  to  disgorge  them  at  the  withered  shrine  where  envy 
idolizes  her  own  infirmities. 


-•-o    ^    >  » 


LESSON   CLIV* 

THE  PLEASURES   OF   MEMORY. 

WILLIS  GAYLORD  CLARK:. 

1.  'Tis  sweet  to  remember !  I  would  not  forego 

The  charm  which  the  past  o'er  the  present  can  throw, 

For  all  the  gay  visions  that  Fancy  may  weave 

In  her  web  of  illusion  that  shines  to  deceive. 

We  know  not  the  future, — the  past  we  have  felt, — 

Its  cherished  enjoyments  the  bosom  can  melt; 

Its  raptures  anew  o'er  our  pulses  may  roll, 

When  thouo;hts  of  the  morrow  fall  cold  on  the  soul. 

2.  'Tis  sweet  to  remember !  when  storms  are  abroad, 
To  see  in  the  rainbow  the  promise  of  God  ; 


FIFTH     BOOK.  303 

The  day  may  be  darkened,  but  far  in  the  west, 
In  Vermillion  and  gold  sinks  the  sun  to  his  rest ; 
With  smiles  like  the  morning,  he  passeth  away ; 
Thus  the  beams  of  delight  on  the  spirit  can  play, 
When  in  calm  reminiscence  we  gather  the  flowers 
AVhich  love  scattered  round  us  in  happier  hours. 

'Tis  sweet  to  remember !  when  friends  are  unkind, 

When  their  coldness  and  carelessness  shadow  the  mind ; 

Then,  to  draw  back  the  vail  which  envelops  a  land, 

Where  delectable  prospects  in  beaut}^  expand ; 

To  smell  the  green  fields,  the  fresh  waters  to  hear, 

AVhose  once  fairy  music  enchanted  the  ear; 

To  drink  in  the  smiles  that  delighted  us  then, 

And  list  to  the  voices  of  childhood  again ; 

O,  this  the  sad  heart,  like  a  reed  that  is  bruised. 

Binds  up,  when  the  banquet  of  hope  is  refused  1 

'Tis  sweet  to  remember  !  and  naught  can  destroy 
The  balm-breathing  comfort,  the  glory,  the  joy, 
Which  spring  from  that  fountain  to  gladden  our  way, 
When  the  changeful  and  faithless  desert  or  betray. 
I  would  not  forget !  though  my  thoughts  should  be  dark, 
O'er  the  ocean  of  life,  I  look  back  from  my  bark, 
And  I  see  the  lost  Eden,  where  once  I  was  blest, 
A  tj'pe  and  a  promise  of  heavenly  rest. 


LESSON   CLV* 

Explanatory  Note. — 1.  Chi-Chen,  a  term  signifying  Mouth  of  a  Well, 
is  the  name  given  to  the  ruins  of  a  very  ancient  city  in  Yucatan.  Through- 
out that  country,  as  well  as  in  others  in  Central  America,  are  found  the 
remains  of  ancient  cities  and  monuments,  much  dilapidated,  and  overgrown 
with  weeds  and  shrubbery.  They  indicate  a  high  state  of  civilization  on 
the  part  of  their  builders. 

THE   EUINS   OF   CHI-CHEN. 

B.  M.  NORMAN. 

1.  On   arriving  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the   ruins   of 
the  ancient  city  Chi-Chen,  I  was  compelled  to  cut  my  way 

17* 


394  SANDEKS'    NEW     SERIES, 

througli  an  almost  impenetrable  thicket  of  underbrusli,  inter- 
laced and  bound  together  with  strong  tendrils  and  vines.  I 
was  finally  enabled  to  effect  a  passage ;  and,  in  the  course  of  a 
few  hours,  I  found  myself  in  the  pres'^^ce  of  the  ruins.  For 
five  days  did  I  wander  up  and  down,  among  these  crumbling 
monuments  of  a  city  which  must  have  been  one  of  the  largest 
the  world  has  ever  seen. 

2.  I  beheld  before  me,  for  a  circuit  of  many  miles  in  diame- 
ter, the  walls  of  palaces,  temples  and  pyramids,  more  or  less 
dilapidated.  The  earth  was  strewed,  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
distinguish,  with  columns, — some  broken,  and  some  nearly  per- 
fect, which  seem  to  have  been  planted  there  by  the  genius  of 
desolation,  which  presided  over  this  awful  solitude. 

3.  Amid  these  solemn  memorials  of  departed  generations 
who  have  died  and  left  no  marks  but  these,  there  were  no  in- 
dications of  animated  existence,  save  from  the  bats,  the  lizards, 
and  other  reptiles,  which  now  and  then  emerged  from  the 
crevices  of  the  tottering  walls  and  crumbling  stones,  that  were 
strewed  upon  the  ground  at  their  base.  No  marks  of  human 
footsteps,  no  signs  of  previous  visitors,  were  discernible  ;  nor 
is  there  good  reason  to  believe  that  any  person,  whose  testi- 
mony of  the  fact  has  been  given  to  the  world,  had  ever  before 
broken  the  silence  which  reigns  over  these  sacred  tombs  of  a 
departed  civilization. 

4.  As  I  looked  about  me,  and  indulged  in  these  reflections, 
I  felt  awed  into  perfect  silence.  To  speak  then,  had  been  pro- 
fen  e.  A  revelation  fi-om  Heaven  could  hardly  have  impressed 
me  more  profoundly  with  the  solemnity  of  its  communication, 
than  I  was  now  impressed,  on  finding  myself  the  first,  probably, 
of  the  present  generation  of  civilized  men,  walking  the  streets 
of  this  once  mighty  city,  and  amid 

"  Those  temples,  palaces,  and  piles  stupendous, 
Of  which  the  very  ruins  are  tremendous." 

5.  For  a  long  time  I  was  so  distracted  with  the  multitude 
of  objects  which  crowded  upon  my  mind,  that  I  could  take  no 
note  of  them  in  detail.     It  was  not  until   some  hours  had 


FIFTH     BOOK.  395 

elapsed,  that  my  curiosity  was  sufficiently  under  control  to 
enable  me  to  examine  them  with  any  minuteness.  The  Indians, 
for  many  leagues  around,  hearing  of  my  arrival,  came  to  visit 
me  daily  ;  but  the  object  of  my  toil  was  quite  beyond  their  com- 
prehension. They  watched  my  every  motion,  occasionally  look- 
ing up  to  each  other  with  an  air  of  unfeigned  astonishment. 

6.  Of  the  builders  or  occupants  of  these  edifices,  which^ 
were  in  ruins  about  them,  they  had  not  the  slightest  idea ;  nor 
did  the  question  seem  ever  to  have  occurred  to  them.  After 
the  most  careful  search,  no  traditions,  nor  superstitions,  nor 
legends  of  any  kind  concerning  these  remains,  could  be  dis- 
covered. Time  and  foreign  oppression  had  paralyzed,  among 
this  unfortunate  people,  those  faculties  which  have  been  or- 
dained by  the  God  of  nations  to  transfer  history  into  tradition. 
All  communication  with  the  past,  here  seems  to  have  been 
cut  off". 

V,  Nor  did  any  allusion  to  their  ancestry,  or  to  the  former 
occupants  of  these  mighty  palaces  and  monumental  temples, 
produce  the  slightest  thrill  through  the  memories  of  even  the 
oldest  Indians  in  the  vicinity.  Defeated  in  my  anticipations 
from  this  quarter,  I  addressed  myself,  at  once,  to  the  only 
course  of  procedure,  which  was  likely  to  give  me  any  solution 
of  the  solemn  mystery, — to  the  ruins  themselves. 

8.  My  first  examination  was  made  at  what  I  conceived  to  be 
the  ruins  of  the  Temple.  These  consist  of  four  distinct  walls, 
standing  upon  an  elevated  foundation  of  about  sixteen  feet.  I 
entered  at  an  opening  at  the  western  end,  which  I  considered 
to  be  the  main  entrance ;  and  presumed,  from  the  broken 
walls,  ceilings,  and  pillars  still  standing,  that  the  opposite  end 
had  been  the  location  of  the  shrine  or  altar.  The  distance  be- 
tween these  two  extremities,  is  four  hundred  and  fifty  feet. 

9.  Of  the  entrance,  or  western  end,  about  one-half  remains, 
— the  interior  showing  broken  rooms  and  ceilings,  not  entirely 
defaced.  The  exterior  is  composed  of  large  stones,  beautifully 
hewn,  and  laid  in  fillet  and  molding  work.  The  opposite,  or 
altar  end,  consists  of  similar  walls,  but  has  two  sculptured 
pillarsi,  much  defaced  by  the  falling  ruins. 


396  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

10.  The  walls  are  surroinided  with  masses  of  sculptured  and 
hewn  stones,  broken  columns,  and  ornaments  which  had  fallen 
from  the  walls  themselves,  and  which  are  covered  with  a  rank 
and  luxuriant  vegetation,  and  even  with  trees.  The  southern 
wall  is  in  the  best  state  of  preservation,  the  highest  part  of 
which,  yet  standing,  is  about  fifty  feet ;  where,  also,  the  re- 
mains of  rooms  are  still  seen. 

11.  The  inner  surface  of  these  walls  is  quite  perfect,  finely 
finished  with  smooth  stone,  cut  uniformly  in  squares  of  about 
two  feet.  About  the  center  of  these  walls,  near  the  top  on 
both  sides,  are  stone  rings,  carved  from  immense  blocks,  and 
inserted  in  the  wall  by  a  long  shaft,  and  projecting  from  it 
about  four  feet.  They  measure  about  four  feet  in  diameter, 
and  two  in  thickness, — the  sides  beautifully  carved. 

12.  Of  the  exterior  of  these  walls,  a  sufiicient  portion  still 
exists  to  show  the  fine  and  elaborate  workmanship  of  the  cor- 
nices and  entablatures,  though  the  latter  are  much  broken  and 
defaced.  They  are  composed  of  immense  blocks  of  stone,  laid 
with  the  greatest  regularity  and  precision,  the  fronts  of  which 
are  sculptured,  representing  flowers,  borders,  animals,  and 
Indian  figures  adorned  with  feather  head-dresses,  and  armed 
with  bows  and  arrows. 

13.  A  few  rods  south  of  this  Temple  is  the  Pyramid,  a 
majestic  pile,  measuring  at  its  base  about  fwe  hundred  and 
fifty  feet.  The  angles  and  sides  were  beautifully  laid  with 
stones  of  an  immense  size,  gradually  lessening  as  the  work  ap- 
proached the  summit  or  platform.  On  the  east  and  north  sides 
are  flights  of  small  stone  steps,  thirty  feet  wide  at  the  base, 
and  narrowing  as  they  ascend.  The  bases  were  piled  up  with 
ruins,  and  overgrown  with  rank  grass  and  vines ;  and  it  was 
only  after  great  labor  that  I  was  enabled  to  reach  the  sides 
facing  the  east. 

14.  Here  were  found  two  square  stones  oi  enormous  size, 
partly  buried  in  the  ruins.  They  were  plainly  carved,  repre- 
senting some  monster  with  wide-extended  jaws,  with  rows  of 
teeth,  and  a  protruding  tongue.  These  stones  were  evidently 
the  finish  to  the  base  of  the  steps.     I  ascended  the  fallen  and 


FIFTH    BOOK.  397 

broken  steps,  through  bushes  and  trees,  with  which  they  were 
partly  covered,  to  the  summit,  one  hundred  feet.  Here  was  a 
terrace  or  platform,  in  the  center  of  which  is  a  square  building, 
one  hundred  and  seventy  feet  at  its  base,  and  twenty  feet 
hiojh. 

15.  The  exterior  of  the  building  had  been  built  of  fine 
hewn  and  i;niform  blocks  of  stone,  with  entablatures  of  supe- 
rior order,  and  projecting  cornices.  I  could  find  no  access  to 
the  top  but  by  the  pillars,  and  by  cutting  steps  in  the  stone 
and  mortar  of  the  broken  edges,  and  by  the  aid  of  bushes,  I 
reached  the  summit.  I  found  it  perfectly  level,  the  whole 
covered  with  a  deep  soil,  in  which  trees  and  grass  were  grow- 
ing in  profusion.  From  this  hight  was  presented  a  magnificent 
view  of  all  the  ruins,  and  the  vast  plain  around  them. 

16.  Unlike  most  of  the  Egyptian  pyramids,  whose 

"  Primeval  race  had  run,  ere  antiquity  bad  begun," 
this  Pyramid  does  not  culminate  at  the  top.  The  solidity  of 
its  structure,  the  harmony  and  grandeur  of  its  architecture, 
must  impress  every  one  with  an  exalted  idea  of  the  mechan- 
ical skill,  and  the  numbers  of  those,  by  whom  it  was  con- 
structed ;  and  like  those  in  Egypt,  so  long  as  it  stands,  it  must 
remain  a  monumental  protest  of  an  oppressed  people, — against 
the  ill-directed  ambition  and  tyranny  of  those  rulers,  by  whose 
command  it  was  built. 


»» ♦ »» 


LESSON    CLVU 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  An'  ti  och  is  a  city  of  Syria,  which  early  re- 
ceived Christianity,  and  was  called  on  that  account  Theopolis,  The  Di- 
vine City.  For  many  ages  it  was  the  royal  seat  of  the  kings  of  Syria. 
Though  now  almost  depopulated,  there  are  still  remaining  monuments  of 
its  ancient  grandeur. 

2.  Cae'  thage,  the  ancient  citj'-  of  northern  Africa,  was  founded  about 
1200  years  before  Christ.    The  remains  of  this  ancient  city  are  stiU  visible. 

3.  Mem'  phis,  which  owed  its  foundation  to  a  king  in  the  first  ages  of 
Egypt,  was  situated  on  the  western  shore  of  the  Nile.  In  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury, notwithstanding  the  attempts  made  by  various  nations  to  destroy 
even  the  vestiges,  and  to  obliterate  every   trace  of  it,  by   removing  tho 


398  SANDERS'      NEW      SERIES. 

stones  and  materials,  of  which  it  was  built,  yet  there  were  in  it  works, 
wonderful  beyond  description. 

4.  Che'  ops  was  the  king  of  Egypt,  who  built  famous  pyramids,  upon 
which,  according  to  Herodotus,  the  historian,  he  employed  a  hundred 
thousand  men,  who  were  relieved  every  three  months.  He  and  his  bro- 
ther, Chepheren,  were  so  inveterately  hated  by  the  Egyptians,  that  they 
pubhcly  reported  that  the  Pyramids  were  erected  by  a  shepherd,  instead 
of  attributing  the  enterprise  to  them. 

REFLECTIONS    ON    THE    RUINS    OP    CHI-CHEN. 

B.  M.   NORMAN. 

1.  It  is  tlie  impression  of  some  tliat  three  distinct  races  of 
men  have  occupied  this  country,  previous  to  the  arrival  of  the 
existing  white  population.  Of  these,  the  first  is  considered  as 
the  most  civilized,  to  whom  are  attributed  those  magnificent 
works,  the  ruins  of  which  are  seen  in  various  parts  of  Cen- 
tral America.  To  the  second  race  are  attributed  those  vast 
mounds  of  earth,  formed  throughout  the  whole  western  region, 
from  Lake  Erie  to  Florida  and  the  Rocky  Mountains.  The  third 
race  are  the  Indians  now  existing  in  the  western  territories. 

2.  In  the  profound  silence  and  solitude  of  these  western  re- 
gions, and  above  the  bones  of  a  buried  world,  how  must  a  phil- 
osophic traveler  meditate  upon  the  transitory  state  of  human 
existence,  when  the  only  traces  of  two  races  of  men,  are  these 
strange  memorials  !  On  this  very  spot  generation  after  gene- 
ration has  stood,  has  lived,  has  warred,  grown  old,  and  passed 
away ;  and  not  only  their  names,  but  their  nation,  their 
language,  have  perished ;  and  i;tter  oblivion  has  closed  over 
their  once  populous  abodes.  We  call  this  country  the  New 
World.  It  is  old  !  Age  after  age,  and  one  revolutien  after 
another,  has  passed  over  it ;  but  who  shall  tell  its  history  ? 

3.  Whatever  diversity  of  origin  may  have  existed  among  the 
races  of  Indians  whose  remains  are  the  burden  of  our  specula- 
tions, one  thing  is  certain,  that  the  builders  of  the  city  of  Chi- 
Chen,  excelled  in  the  mechanic  and  fine  arts.  It  is  obvious 
that  they  were  cultivated,  and,  doubtless,  a  very  numerous  peo- 
ple. It  is  difiicult  to  suppose  that  those  vast  erections  could 
have  been  made  by  the  mere  aggregation  of  men,  unaided  by 
science. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  899 

4.  The  only  way  to  get  any  idea  of  the  age  of  these  ruins, 
is  by  comparison  with  the  remains  of  other  cities,  of  whose 
age  we  have  some  knowledge.  Measuring  their  age  by  such 
a  scale,  the  mind  is  startled  at  their  probable  antiquity.  The 
Pyramids  and  Temples  of  Yucatan  seem  to  have  been  old  in 
the  days  of  Pharaoh.     Before  the  eye  of  imagination, 

•'  Their  lonely  columns  stand  sublime, 
Flinging  their  shadows  from  on  high, 
Like  dials  which  the  wizard  Time 
Had  raised  to  count  his  ages  by." 

5.  It  will  be  remembered  that  there  are  walls  now  standing 
there,  fifteen  feet  thick  or  more,  built  with  an  art  and  strength 
which  defy  both  competition  and  decay ;  that  there  is  one  pyr- 
amid upward  of  a  hundred  feet  in  hight,  with  a  building  upon 
its  summit,-  which  supports  trees,  planted  in  a  soil,  deposited 
from  the  atmosphere  for  the  last  thousands  of  years. 

6.  Compare  these  ruins,  in  their  present  condition,  with  the 
Cloaca  Maxima  of  Rome.  More  than  twenty-five  shundred 
years  have  elapsed  since  this  work  was  constructed  to  drain 
off  the  waters  of  the  Forum  and  the  adjacent  hollows  of  the 
Tiber,  and  there  it  stands  to  this  day  without  a  stone  displaced, 
still  performing  its  destined  service.  How  many  years  before 
it  will  present  the  ruinous  aspect  of  the  Temple  of  Chi-Chen  ? 
Evidently  the  city  of  Chi  Chen  was  an  antiquity  when  the 
foundations  of  the  Parthenon  at  Athens,  and  the  Cloaca  Maxima 
at  Rome,  were  being  laid. 

7.  Compare  with  the  ruins  of  Central  America  the  con- 
spicuous, remains  of  Balbec,*  of  Antioch,*  of  Carthage,''  of 
Thebes,!  and  of  Memphis,' — their  pyramids,  their  labyrinths, 
their  obelisks,  and  sepulchers.  Who  shall  say  that  while  the 
servile  workmen  of  Cheops^  were  sacrificing  the  lives  of  count- 
less multitudes  of  men,  to  prove  that  the  gods  alone  were  not 
immortal,  and  to  rear  for  themselves  imperishable  burial-places, 
that,  at  the  same  time,  on  another  continent,  thousands  of  miles 
from  the  Egyptian  house  of  bondage,  a  people  of  a  different 
race,  unknowing  and  unknown  to  history,  were  not  laying  the 

*  See  page  98,  Note  3.  f  See  Note  1,  page  98. 


400  SANDERS'    NEW     SERIES. 

foundations  of  cities,  of  palaces,  and  of  temples,  less  stupen- 
dous, perhaps,  but  no  less  a  wonder  and  a  mystery  to  succeed- 
ing nations  ? 

8.  It  is  not  for  any  man  now  to  place  a  limit  to  the  age  of 
the  American  ruins.  They  belong  to  the  remotest  antiquity. 
Their  age  is  not  to  be  measured  by  hundreds,  but  by  thou- 
sands  of  years. 


LESSON  CLVn* 


Explanatory  Note. — 1.  Bu  si'  ris  was  a  king  of  Egypt,  who  sacrificed 
all  foreigners  to  Jupiter  with  the  greatest  cruelty.  Many  Egyptian  princes 
have  borne  the  same  name. 

REFLECTIONS    FROM    THE    SUMMIT    OF    AN    EGYPTIAN 

PYRAMID. 

1.  Throned  on  the  sepulchcr  of  mighty  kings, 
Whose  dust  in  solemn  silence  sleeps  below, 
Till  that  great  day,  when  sublunary  things 

Shall  pass  away,  e'en  as  the  April  bow 
Fades  from  the  gazer's  eye,  and  leaves  no  trace 
Of  its  bright  colors,  or  its  former  place  ; — 

2. 1  gaze  in  sadness  o'er  the  scenery  wild, — 

On  scattered  groups  of  palms,  and  seas  of  sand, — 

On  the  wide  desert,  and  the  desert's  child, — 
On  ruins  made  by  Time's  destructive  hand, — 

On  temples,  towers,  and  columns  now  laid  low, — 

A  land  of  crime,  of  tyranny,  and  woe. 

3.  0  Egypt !  Egypt !  how  art  thou  debased  ! — 

A  Moslem  slave  upon  Busiris"  throne  ! 
And  all  thy  splendid  monuments  defaced  ! 

Long,  long  beneath  his  iron  rod  shall  groan 
Thy  hapless  children  ;  thou  hast  had  thy  day, 
And  all  thy  glories  now  have  passed  away. 

4.  0  !  could  thy  princely  dead  rise  from  their  graves, 

And  view  with  me  the  changes  Time  has  wrought, 


FIFTH     BOOK.  401 

A  land  of  rnins,  and  a  race  of  slaves, 

Where  wisdom  flourished,  and  where  sages  taught, — 
A  scene  of  desolation,  mental  night ! — 
How  would  they  shrink  with  horror  from  the  sight ! 

5.  Ancient  of  days  !  nurse  of  fair  science,  arts  ! 

All  that  refines  and  elevates  mankind ! 
Where  are  thy  palaces,  and  where  thy  marts, 

Thy  glorious  cities,  and  thy  men  of  mind  ? 
Forever  gone ! — the  very  names  they  bore, 
The  sites  they  occupied,  are  now  no  more. 

6.  But  why  lament,  since  such  must  ever  be 

The  fate  of  human  greatness,  human  pride  ? 
E'en  those  who  mourn  the  loudest  over  thee, 

Are  drifting  headlong  down  the  rapid  tide 
That  sweeps,  resistless,  to  the  yawning  grave, 
All  that  is  great  and  good,  or  wise  and  brave. 

T.  E'en  thou,  proud  fabric!  whence  I  now  survey 

Scenes  so  afflicting  to  the  feeling  heart. 
Despite  thy  giant  strength,  must  sink  the  prey 

Of  hoary  age,  and  all  thy  fame  depart ; 
In  vain  thy  head,  aspiring,  scales  the  sky, — 
Prostrate  in  dust  that  lofty  head  must  lie. 

8.  The  soul  alone, — the  precious  boon  of  Heaven,- 
Can  fearless  brave  of  time  and  fate  the  rage, 
When  to  thy  deep  foundations  thou  art  riven ; 
Yea,  Egypt !  blotted  from  th'  historic  page, 
She  shall  survive,  shall  ever,  ever  bloom. 
In  radiant  youth,  triumphant  o'er  the  tomb. 


LESSON   CLYIIU 

SUPERIORITY  OP  THE  WORKS  OP  NATURE  OVER  THOSE 

OP  ART. 

1.  To  a  mind  which  delights  in  the  exercise  of  its  reflective 
powers,  the  works  of  nature  have  ever  presented  the  most 


402  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

satisfying  and  delectable  sources  of  investigation.  Wherever 
we  turn  our  eyes,  some  object  of  admiration  presents  itself, — 
into  whatever  recess  we  penetrate,  our  attention  is  arrested  by 
the  charms  of  some  natural  curiosity  ;  and  the  more  exten- 
sively we  examine,  and  the  deeper  we  search,  the  richer  will  be 
the  banquet  spread  out  before  us. 

2.  A  more  delicious  feast  can  not  be  presented  to  the  curious 
and  contemplative  mind,  than  to  roam  amidst  all  the  luxuri- 
ances of  nature,  and  to  view  her  sporting  in  a  thousand  bloom- 
ing and  fascinating  charms,  or  sublimely  moving  amidst  the 
stupendous  and  wonderful  worts  of  the  universe.  Above  and 
around  us,  in  the  illimitable  regions  of  space,  roll  millions  of  orbs 
which  afford  to  us  the  blessing  of  light,  and  which  display  the 
sublimer  glories  of  nature. 

3.  Scattered  over  the  diversified  surface  of  the  earth,  for 
various,  useful,  and  important  purposes,  the  innumerable  tribes 
of  animal  and  vegetable  nature,  exhibit  araaziug  skill  and  con- 
trivance,— the  depths  of  the  ocean,  and  the  regions  of  the  air, 
— all  unite  to  set  forth  the  glorious  and  inimitable  perfections 
of  the  works  of  nature,  while  all  conspire,  by  the  regular  and 
harmonious  performance  of  their  respective  functions,  to  send 
up  a  grateful  song  of  praise  to  their  wise  and  beneficent 
Author. 

4.  That  the  works  of  art  assume  to  themselves  the  exten- 
sive and  well-earned  meed  of  approbation,  will  not  be  denied, 
— that  they  may  well  be  held  up  to  the  observation  of  the 
wise  and  good, — and  that  they  should  be  generally  patronized, 
as  conducive  to  the  comfort  and  pleasure  of  life,  will  be  readily 
conceded.  But  that  they  fall  infinitely  short  of  the  nice  and 
inimitable  perfection,  the  well-regulated  utility,  and  the  posi- 
tive beauty,  which  characterize  those  of  nature,  is  a  fact  which 
few  can  venture  to  disclaim,  without  sacrificing  truth  and  judg- 
ment at  the  shrine  of  ignorance  and  impiety. 

5.  The  works  of  nature  are  superior  to  those  of  art  in  their 
originality.  They  are  all  the  sole  productions  of  an  All-wise 
Author,  and  all  bear  internal  evidences  of  originality  ; — for,  as 
they  were  called  into  being  from  nothing,  they  could  not  be 


FIFTH     BOOK.  403 

copied  from  any  tiling  antecedently  existing.  To  suppose  that 
they  were  imitated  from  any  models,  except  such  as  were  in 
the  mind  of  the  great  Original,  is  to  entertain  questionable  and 
irreverent  notions  of  his  Omniscience.  But  with  regard  to  the 
works  of  art,  they  are  only  copies  from  the  master-pieces  of 
nature,  and  few  will  deny,  that  many  of  the  most  splendid  and 
elaborate  works  of  art,  became  so,  simply  from  their  unequaled 
models. 

6.  Scarcely  a  performance  is  executed  by  man,  which  does 
not  glory  in  being  a  transcript  from  nature.  It  is  to  her  hid- 
den sources  that  men  look  for  the  most  brilliant  trophies  of 
their  talent  and  research, — it  is  with  delight  they  hail  her  ap- 
pearance, upon  which  they  may  display  their  genius  ;  and  with 
no  less  ardor  than  pleasure,  do  thej^  avail  themselves  of  what- 
ever she  may  present  to  their  notice.  Truly,  "  the  works  of 
the  Lord  are  great,  sought  out  of  all  them  that  have  pleasure 
therein !" 

7.  The  works  of  nature  are  superior  to  those  of  art  in  their 
workmanship  and  perfection.  Examine  any  of  the  former  with 
the  most  scrutinizing  eye,  and  it  will  be  found  to  be  framed 
with  the  nicest  skill  and  proportion, — every  part  exactly  cor- 
responds and  harmonizes  with  one  another, — all  perform  the 
respective  parts  assigned  them  by  Eternal  Wisdom,  without 
the  least  deviations.  There  is  not  a  single  object  in  nature, 
that  may  not  court  tae  strictest  investigation  as  it  regards  its 
perfection  ;  and  though  many  objects  far  exceed  others  in  won- 
der and  beauty,  yet  each,  in  itself,  lays  open  an  interesting 
view  of  consummate  skill, — a  pleasing  exhibition  of  divine 
goodness. 

8.  The  tints  which  adorn  the  petals  of  a  flower,  and  the 
delicate  wings  and  body  of  an  insect,  bear  well  the  test  of  ex- 
amination; and  the  finest  and  most  delicate  specimens  of  the 
pencil,  in  comparison  with,  such,  appear  coarse  and  imperfect. 
The  color,  the  frame,  the  texture,  the  diversity  of  covering  for 
the  brute  creation,  and  the  nice  adaptation  to  their  natures, 
are  so  exquisite  as  to  outvie  every  attempt  of  art  to  rival  them, 
— even   the   beautiful  verdure   which   clothes   our  fields   and 


404  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

meadows,  in  its  several  varieties,  is  so  replete  with  divine  skill, 
that  it  has  been  said : — "  a  single  blade  of  grass  contains  more 
than  will  ever  be  discovered  by  the  most  patient  and  minute 
investigation." 

9.  The  works  of  nature  excel  those  of  art  in  their  variety. 
It  is  astonishing  to  behold  the  vast  diversity  which  prevails  in 
the  grand  system  of  animal  and  vegetable  nature.  It  is  calcu- 
lated, that  there  are,  at  present,  known  between  four  and  five 
hundred  species  of  land  animals,  six  hundred  of  birds,  of  fish 
five  thousand,  and  of  insects,  nearly  two  hundred  thousand. 
Exclusive  of  these,  there  are,  doubtless,  a  vast  number  of  the 
brute  creation,  which  are  unknown  to  man.  Of  plants,  it  is 
not  improbable,  that  their  number  would  almost  defy  the  pow- 
ers of  calculation. 

10.  The  works  of  nature  claim  unquestionable  pre-eminence, 
in  their  durability.  See  with  what  uniform  regularity  the  orbs 
of  heaven  have  performed  their  revolutions,  from  the  period 
when,  they  were  called  into  existence  by  the  Almighty  fiat, — 
and  still  perform  them,  without  the  least  diminution  of  efficacy 
or  irregularity.  Many  of  the  other  works  of  nature,  have  re- 
mained, with  equal  perfection,  from  the  moment  of  their  crea- 
tion to  the  present  period.  And  even  all  the  animal  and  veg- 
etable tribes,  notwithstanding  they  decay  and  die  at  stated  and 
regular  periods,  may  be  said  to  have  endured  from  the  begin- 
ning;  since  they  have  been,  and  still  a  e,  continually  repro- 
duced in  succession, 

11.  But,  it  is  too  true,  that  mutability  is  inseparable  from 
the  works  of  man ;  they,  like  himself,  are  frail,  and  a  few  fleet- 
ing years  are  sufficient  to  mar  their  beauty  and  spoil  their  ex- 
cellence. The  most  ancient  relics  of  art  are  frequently  so  mu- 
tilated and  defaced  by  the  consuming  hand  of  time,  as  to 
become  valuable,  not  for  the  skill  exhibited  in  their  workman- 
ship, but  solely  on  account  of  their  antiquity.  Nature's  works 
however,  are  always  blooming,  are  always  beautiful  in  them- 
selves, and  they  will  continue  to  bloom  till  that  great  and 
terrible  day,  when  the  heavens  and  the  earth  shall  pass  away, 
and  the  elements  melt  with  fervent  heat. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  405 

12.  Nature  lias  ever  stood  unrivaled, — she  must  ever  re- 
main so.  Her  treasures  have  never  been  exhausted,  and  it  is 
certain  they  never  will.  She  pours  forth  her  beauties  and  lux- 
uriances with  an  unsparing  and  lavish  hand,  in  every  possible 
variety,  to  engage  the  heart,  to  charm  the  ear,  and  to  delight 
the  eye.  She  will  ever  be  sought  after  by  the  curious  mind, 
and  she  will  never  disappoint  the  true  admirer.  Art,  exalted 
and  adorned,  as  she  certainly  is,  will  ever  look  up  to  nature  as 
her  great  original, — as  the  beautifier  of  all  her  productions, — 
as  the  charm  of  all  her  fascinations,  and  the  source  of  all  her 
excellence. 


LESSON   CLIX* 

NATURE. 

A.  B.  STREET. 

1.  Nature, — faint  emblem  of  Omnipotence, 
Shaped  by  His  hand, — the  shadow  of  His  light, — 
The  vail,  in  which  He  wraps  His  majesty, 

And  through  whose  mantling  folds  He  deigns  to  show 
Of  His  mysterious,  awful  attributes 
And  dazzling  splendors,  all  man's  feeble  thought 
Can  grasp  uncrushed,  or  vision  bear  unquenched. 

2.  God  glanced  on  chaos, — into  form  it  sprang, — 
Worlds  clustered  round  Him,  instant  at  His  will, 
Blazing,  they  darted  to  their  destined  spheres. 
Spangling  the  void,  and  in  their  orbits  wheeled, 
Each  with  a  different  glory.     Kindled  suns 

Shot  their  fierce  beams,  and  gentle  moons  were  robed 
In  soft,  pure  silvery  luster.     Chaos  lived. 

3.  As  the  bright  shapes  were  speeding  to  their  goals, 
The  Angels  gazed  with  wonder.     Orb  on  orb 
Swept  past  their  vision,  shedding  fitful  gleams 
Upon  their  jeweled  brows  and  glittering  wings, 
And  trailing,  as  they  whirled  along  their  flight, 
Pathways  of  splendor,  till  the  boundless  space 
Flashed  in  a  web  of  gorgeous  brilliancy. 


406  SANDEES'    NEW    SEEIES. 

4.  But  when  Omnipotence  had  formed  His  robe, 
And  cast  its  spangled  blazonry  round  Heaven, 
The  countless  myriads  of  those  shining  ones, 

Their  wonder  changed  to  awe,  bowed  crown  and  harp 

Before  the  dazzling  brightness.     Then,  as  stole 

The  first  low  music  of  the  singing  stars. 

Melting  along  the  stillness,  rank  on  rank, 

The  proud  Archangel  in  his  majesty. 

And  the  pure  Seraph  in  her  loveliness. 

Leaping  erect,  poured  from  the  quivering  string 

Their  anthem  to  the  Holiest,  till  Heaven's  air, 

Stirred  by  the  diapason  of  the  hymn, 

Eolled  on  an  ocean  of  deep  harmonious  sounds. 

5.  At  the  creative  summons.  Earth  had  wheeled, 
In  her  eternal  course  ; — Oh  !  not  as  now. 
Marred  by  the  bitter  curse  that  flowed  from  sin, 
Scathed  by  God's  justice,  darkened  by  His  wrath. 
And  made  more  black  by  man, — but  pure  and  sweet 
In  all  the  beauty  of  her  blossoming  youth, — 

In  all  the  fragrance  of  her  new-born  spring. 

6.  Nature  is  Man's  best  teacher.     She  unfolds 
Her  treasurres  to  his  search,  unseals  His  eye, 
Illumes  his  mind,  and  purifies  his  heart. 

An  influence  breathes  from  all  the  siglits  and  sounds 
Of  her  existence  ;  she  is  Wisdom's  self. 
Best  yields  she  to  the  "  weary"  of  the  earth, — 
Its  "  heavy-laden"  she  endows  with  strength. 
1.  When  sorrow  presses  on  us,  when  the  stings 
Of  bitter  disappointmeut  pierce  the  soul. 
When  our  eye  sickens  at  the  sight  of  man, 
Our  ear  turns  loathing  from  his  jarring  voice, 
The  shadowy  forest  and  the  quiet  field 
Are  then  our  comforters.     A  medicine 
Breathes  in  the  wind  that  fans  our  fevered  brow, 
The  blessed  sunshine  yields  a  sweet  delight, 
The  bird's  low  warble  thrills  within  our  breast. 


FIFTH      BOOK.  407 

The  flower  is  eloquent  with  peace  and  joy, 
And  better  thoughts  come  o'er  us.     Lighter  heart 
And  purer  feelings  cheer  our  homeward  way  ; 
We  prize  more  deep  the  blessings  that  are  ours, 
And  rest  a  higher,  holier  trust  in  God. 

8.  And  Nature  teaches  us  Philosophy  ; 

In  the  quick  shading  of  her  brilliant  morn 
By  the  dark  storm-cloud  ;  in  the  canker-spot 
That  lurks  within  her  blushing,  fragrant  rose, 
In  the  sad  blighting  of  her  summer  leaves, 
"When  Autumn  wields  his  tempests  ;  solemnly 
She  warns  how  full  of  direst  change  is  life. 
How  perishing  our  sweetest,  brightest  joys. 
How  oft  death  lays  our  dearest  feelings  waste, 
And  makes  existence  cold  and  desolate  ! 

9.  But  O !  she  teaches,  also,  blessed  Hope ; 

Hope,  the  sustainer !  Hope  which  keeps  the  heart; 
From  breaking  in  its  sorrow.     Glorious  Hope  I 
In  the  light  seed  that  cradles  the  green  plant,-* 
In  the  bright  sun  succeeding  the  dark  nightf'^ 
In  blue-eyed  Spring  that  plants  her  violets 
Within  departing  Winter's  melting  snows. 

10.  And, — holier  theme, — she  teaches  us  of  God, 
Her  Architect, — her  Master.     At  His  feet 
She  crouches,  and,  in  offering  Him  her  praise 
From  myriad  altars,  and  in  myriad  tones, 
She  bids  man  praise  Him,  also.     In  the  broad. 
Magnificent  ocean,  surging  in  wild  foam. 
Yet  bounded  in  its  madness  ;  in  the  fierce, 
Shrieking,  and  howling  tempest,  crashing  on 
In  desolating  wrath,  yet  curbed  with  reins. 
She  shows  His  awful  power,  yet  tender  care. 
In  the  free  sunlight, — in  the  dropping  clouds, — • 
And  changes  of  the  seasons, — she  proclaims 
His  boundless  goodness  and  exhaustless  love. 


408  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

11.  Glorious,  most  glorious  Nature  !  thus  slie  yields 
Gems  to  the  seeker.     But,  alas !  on  earth 
We  see  but  dim  reflections  of  her  light, — 
We  hear  but  whispers  of  her  magic  voice, — 
Her  dazzling,  cloudless  splendors  will  be  seen, 
And  her  full,  perfect  harmony  be  heard, 
Only  when,  bursting  from  its  chains  of  clay, 
The  soul  shall  reach  its  immortality. 


LESSON   CLX* 

MUSIC   OP   NATURE. 


DRYDEM, 

1.  From  harmony, — from  heavenly  harmony, 

This  universal  frame  began. 

When  Nature,  underneath  a  heap 

Of  jarring  atoms,  lay. 
And  could  not  heave  her  head, 

The  tuneful  voice  was  heard  from  high, 
(/.)  Arise  !  ye  more  than  dead ! 

Then  cold,  and  hot,  and  moist,  and  dry. 

In  order,  to  their  stations  leap, 

And  Music's  voice  obey. 
From  harmony, — from  heavenly  harmony 

This  universal  frame  began. 
From  harmony  to  harmony. 
Through  all  the  compass  of  the  notes  it  ran. 
The  diapason  closing  full  in  Man  ! 

2.  As,  from  the  power  of  sacred  lays, 

The  spheres  began  to  move, 
And  sung  the  great  Creator's  praise 

To  all  the  blessed  above ; 
So,  when  the  last  and  dreadful  hour 
This  crumbling  pageant  shall  devour, 
The  trumpet  shall  be  heard  on  high. 
The  dead  shall  live,  the  living  die, 
And  music  shall  untune  the  sky. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  409 

3.  All  Nature  speaks  in  music, — every  tone 

She  utters,  from  the  crashing  thunder's  roar, 
Or  Ocean's  gush  upon  the  rocky  shore, 
Down  to  the  insect's  hum,  or  light  wind's  moan, 
Is  full  of  harmony  ;  or,  if  there  be 

A  jarring  discord  mid  her  thousand  strings, 
One  note  that  chimes  not  with  the  hymn  she  sings, 
'Tis  man  that  strikes  the  chord  and  mars  the  key. 
Then,  o'er  the  mountains  shall  that  sun  arise 

Which  sees  no  strife,  and  hears  no  bitter  voice 
Of  blasphemy,  no  sorrow's  hopeless  sighs. 
To  grate  on  angels'  ears, — and  men  rejoice, 
With  hearts  and  tones  in  unison,  to  sing 
One  grateful  song  to  Heaven's  Eternal  King. 

J.  H.  Clinch. 


LESSON   CLXI* 


FORMER   AND   PRESENT   CONDITION   OP  NEW   YORK. 

BANCROFT. 

1.  Somber  forests  shed  a  melancholy  grandeur  over  the 
useless  magnificence  of  nature,  and  hid,  in  their  deep  shades, 
the  rich  soil  which  the  sun  had  never  warmed.  No  ax  had 
leveled  the  giant  progeny  of  the  crowded  groves,  in  which  the 
fantastic  forms  of  withered  limbs,  that  had  been  blasted  and 
riven  by  lightning,  contrasted  strangely  with  the  verdant  fresh- 
ness of  a  younger  growth  of  branches.  The  wanton  grape- 
vine, seeming  by  its  own  power  to  have  sprung  from  the  earth, 
and  to  have  fastened  its  leafy  coils  on  the  top  of  the  tallest 
forest  tree,  swung  in  the  air  with  every  breeze,  like  the  loos- 
ened shrouds  of  a  ship. 

2.  Trees  might,  everj'-where,  be  seen  breaking  from  their  root 
in  the  marshy  soil,  and  threatening  to  fall  with  the  first  rude 
gust ;  while  the  gronnd  was  strewn  with  the  ruins  of  former 
forests,  over  which  a  profusion  of  wild  flowers  wasted  their 
freshness  in  mockery  of  the  gloom.  Reptiles  sported  in  the 
stagnant  pools,  or  crawled  unharmed  over  piles  of  moldering 

18 


410  SANDERS'    NEW    SERIES. 

trees.  The  spotted  deer  crouched  among  the  thickets;  but 
not  to  hide ;  for  there  was  no  pursuer ;  and  there  was  none 
but  wild  animals  to  crop  the  uncut  herbage  of  the  productive 

prairies. 

8.  Silence  reigned,  broken,  it  may  have  been,  by  the  flight 
of  land-birds  or  the  flapping  of  water-fowls,  and  rendered 
more  dismal  by  the  howl  of  beasts  of  prey.  The  streams, 
not  yet  limited  to  a  channel,  spread  over  sand-bars,  tufted 
with  copses  of  willow,  or  waded  through  wastes  of  reeds. 
The  smaller  brooks  spread  out  into  sedgy  swamps  that  were 
overJiung  by  clouds  of  musketoes ;  masses  of  decaying  vege- 
tation fed  the  exhalations  with  the  seeds  of  pestilence,  and 
made  the  balmy  air  of  the  summer's  evening  as  deadly  as  it 
seemed  grateful.  Vegetable  life  and  death  were  mingled 
hideously  together.  The  horrors  of  corruption  frowned  on  the 
fruitless  fertility  of  uncultivated  nature. 

4.  And  man,  the  occupant  of  the  soil,  was  wild  as  the  sav- 
age scene, — in  harmony  with  the  rude  nature,  by  which  he  was 
surrounded, — a  vagrant  over  the  continent,  in  constant  warfare 
with  his  fellow-man  ;  the  bark  of  the  birch,  his  canoe ;  strings 
of  shells,  his  ornaments,  his  record,  and  his  coin  ;  the  roots  of 
the  forest,  among  his  resources  for  food;  his  knowledge  in 
architecture  surpassed,  both  in  strength  and  durability,  by  the 
skill  of  the  beaver ;  drifts  of  forest-leaves,  his  couch  ;  mats  of 
bulrushes,  his  protection  against  the  winter's  cold  ;  his  religion, 
the  adoration  of  nature ;  his  morals,  the  promptings  of  undis- 
ciplined instinct;  disputing  with  the  wolves  and  bears  the 
lordship  of  the  soil,  and  dividing  with  the  squirrel  the  wild 
fruits,  with  which  the  universal  woodland  abounded. 

5.  How  changed  is  the  scene  from  that,  on  which  Iludsoi, 
gazed  !  The  earth  glows  with  the  colors  of  civilization  ;  th(i 
banks  of  the  streams  are  enameled  with  richest  grasses ;  wood- 
lands and  cultivated  fields  are  harmoniously  blended  ;  the  birds 
of  spring  find  their  delight  in  orchards  and  gardens,  variegated 
with  choicest  plants  from  every  temperate  zone  ;  while  the 
brilliant  flowers  of  the  tropics  bloom  from  the  windows  of  the 
green-house  and  the  saloon. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  411 

6.  The  yeoman,  living  like  a  good  neighbor  near  the  fields 
he  cultivates,  glories  in  the  fruitfulncss  of  the  valleys,  and 
counts,  with  honest  exultation,  the  flocks  and  herds  that  graze 
in  safety  on  the  hills.  The  thorn  has  given  way  to  the  rose- 
bush ;  the  cultivated  vine  clambers  over  rocks  where  the  brood 
of  serpents  used  to  nestle;  while  industry  smiles  at  the 
changes  she  has  wrought,  and  inhales  the  bland  air  which  now 
lias  health  on  its  wings. 

7.  Man  is  still  in  harmony  with  nature,  which  he  has  sub- 
dued, cultivated,  and  adorned.  For  him  the  rivers  that  flow  to 
remotest  climes,  mingle  their  waters ;  for  him  the  lakes  gain 
new  outlets  to  the  ocean ;  for  him  the  arch  spans  the  flood, 
and  science  spreads  iron  pathways  to  the  recent  wilderness ; 
for  him  the  hills  yield  up  the  shining  marble  and  the  enduring 
granite ;  for  him  the  forests  of  the  interior  come  down  in  im- 
mense rafts ;  for  him  the  marts  of  the  city  gather  the  produce 
of  every  clime,  and  libraries  collect  the  works  of  genius  of 
every  language  and  every  age. 

8.  The  passions  of  society  are  chastened  into  purity ;  man- 
ners are  made  benevolent  by  civilization ;  and  the  virtue  of 
the  country  is  the  guardian  of  its  peace.  An  active,  daily 
press,  vigilant  from  party  interests,  free  even  to  dissoluteness, 
watches  the  progress  of  society,  and  communicates  every  fact 
that  can  interest  humanity ;  the  genius  of  letters  begins  to 
unfold  his  powers  in  the  warm  sunshine  of  public  favor.  And, 
while  idle  curiosity  may  take  its  walk  in  shady  avenues  by  the 
ocean  side,  commerce  pushes  its  wharves  into  the  sea,  blocks  up 
the  wide  rivers  with  its  fleets,  and,  sending  its  ships,  the  pride 
of  naval  architecture,  to  every  clime,  defies  every  wind,  out- 
rides every  tempest,  and  invades  every  zone. 


LESSON   CLXIU 

HOTE. — To  read  or  speak  the  following  poetry  intelligibly,  will  be  found 
no  less  difficult  than  to  analyze  it  grammatically.  The  utterance  requires 
a  distinct  and  marked  emphasis  in  order  fully  to  express  the  sentiment. 
It  should  be  studied  with  care  and  attention,  previous  to  reading  or  speak- 
ing it,  in  order  clearly  to  comprehend  the  sentiment. 


412  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES 


PHILOSOPHY. 


THOMSON. 


1.  Effusive  source  of  evidence  and  truth ! 

A  luster  shedding  o'er  the  ennobled  mind, 

Stronger  than  summer-noon, — pure  as  that 

Whose  mild  vibrations  soothe  the  parted  soul, 

New  to  the  dawning  of  celestial  day ! 

Hence,  through  her  nourished  powers,  enlarged  by  thee, 

She  springs  aloft,  with  elevated  pride, 

Above  the  tangling  mass  of  low  desires, 

That  bind  the  fluttering  crowd ;  and,  angel-winged, 

The  hights  of  science  and  of  virtue  gains, 

Where  all  is  calm  and  clear, — with  Nature  round, 

Or  in  the  starry  regions,  or  the  abyss. 

To  Reason's  and  to  Fancy's  eye  displayed ; — 

The  Jiist,  up-tracing,  from  the  dreary  void, 

The  chain  of  causes  and  effects,  to  Him, 

The  world-producing  Essence,  who  alone 

Possesses  being ;  while  the  last  receives 

The  whole  magnificence  of  heaven  and  Earth, 

And  every  beauty,  delicate  or  bold, 

Obvious,  or  more  remote,  with  livelier  sense, 

Diffusive  painted  on  the  rapid  mind. 

2.  Without  thee,  what  were  unenlightened  man  ? 
A  savage  roaming  through  the  woods  and  wilds. 
In  quest  of  prey ;  and  with  th'  unfashioned  fur, 
Rough-clad ;  devoid  of  every  finer  art 

And  elegance  of  life.     Nor  happiness 
Domestic,  mixed  of  tenderness  and  care. 
Nor  moral  excellence,  nor  social  bliss. 
Nor  guardian  law,  were  his ;  nor  various  skill 
To  turn  the  furrow,  or  to  guide  the  tool 
Mechanic  ;  nor  the  heaven-conducted  prow 
Of  navigation  bold,  that  fearless  braves 
The  burning  Line,  or  dares  the  wint'ryPole; — 
Nothing,  save  rapine,  indolence,  and  guile. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  413 

And  woes  on  woes,  a  still-revolving  train, 

AVhose  horrid  circle  liad  made  human  life 

Than  non-existence  worse ;  but  taught  by  thee, 

Ours  are  the  plans  of  policy  and  peace  ; 

To  live  like  brothers,  and  conjunctive  all 

Embellish  life.     While  thus  laborious  crowds 

Ply  the  tough  oar,  Philosophy  directs 

The  ruling  helm  ;  or,  like  the  liberal  breath 

Of  potent  Heaven,  invisible,  the  sail 

Swells  out,  and  bears  the  inferior  world  along. 

,  Nor  to  this  evanescent  speck  of  earth 
Poorly  confined,  the  radiant  tracts  on  high 
Are  her  exalted  range ;  intent  to  gaze 
Creation  through  ;  and,  from  that  full  complex 
Of  never-ending  wonders,  to  conceive 
Of  the  Sole  Being  right,  who  spoke  the  word, — 
And  Nature  moved  complete.     With  inward  vievr, 
Thence  on  th'  ideal  kingdom  swift  she  turns 
Her  eye ;  and  instant,  at  her  powerful  glance, 
Th'  obedient  phantoms  vanish  or  appear ; 
Compound,  divide,  and  into  order  shift, 
Each  to  his  rank,  from  plain  perception  up 
To  the  fair  forms  of  Fancy's  fleeting  train ; — 
To  reason  then,  deducing  truth  from  truth, 
And  notion  quite  abstract,  where  first  begins 
The  world  of  spirits,  action  all,  and  life 
Unfettered,  and  unmixed. 

But  here  the  cloud, 
So  wills  Eternal  Providence,  sits  deep. 
Enough  for  us  to  know  that  this  dark  state. 
In  wayward  passions  lost,  and  vain  pursuits, 
This  infancy  of  Being  can  not  prove 
The  final  issue  of  the  works  of  God, 
By  boundless  love  and  perfect  wisdom  formed, 
And  ever  rising  with  the  rising  mind. 


414  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSON  CLXHU 

PROGRESS    OP  CIVILIZATION. 

SAMUEL  TOtTNG. 

1.  No  fact  is  more  strongly  corroborated  by  the  annals  of 
the  past,  or  more  fully  confirmed  by  observation  and  experi- 
ence, than  that  the  human  race  is  richly  endowed  with  the  ca- 
pacity for  improvement.  The  records  of  antiquity,  long  ante- 
cedent to  the  Christian  era,  exhibit,  in  several  nations  of  the 
old  world,  a  very  considerable  advance  in  mental  cultivation, 
as  well  as  in  useful  and  ornamental  arts  of  life.  And,  although 
the  progress  of  man  was  exceedingly  desultory  and  slow,  yet, 
the  lapse  of  centuries  finally  manifested  the  splendid  results  of 
human  advancement  in  the  brilliancy  of  Greek  and  Roman  liter- 
ature. 

2.  The  meager  chronicles  of  ancient  times  are  mostly  filled 
with  wars,  battles,  conquests,  and  revolutions.  Few  of  the 
names  of  the  numerous  benefactors  of  the  human  race,  by 
whose  teachings,  examples,  inventions,  and  improvements,  from 
age  to  age,  the  ferocity  of  savage  life  was  partially  softened, 
and  the  arts  ot  peace  gradually  multiplied,  have  been  trans- 
mitted to  our  times. 

3.  The  blank  pages  of  ancient  history  are  the  quiet  epochs 
of  peace.  The  bloody  struggles  of  infuriated  man,  were  chron- 
icled by  the  annalist,  and  commemorated  by  the  poet ;  while 
all  the  ameliorating  influences  were  either  overlooked,  or 
deemed  unworthy  of  record. 

4.  Periods  of  tranquillity,  however,  were  of  short  and  preca- 
rious duration,  and  were  frequently  interrupted  by  the  advent 
of  ferocious  conquerors,  the  shock  of  contending  armies,  or  the 
irruption  of  predatory  hordes.  How  many  times  the  feeble 
glimmerings  of  incipient  knowledge  were  extinguished  in  hu- 
man blood ;  how  many  Alexandrian  libraries  were  destroyed 
by  savage  Avarriors ;  how  often  the  pall  of  night  was  cast  over 
the  rising  sun  of  science,,  and  the  human  race  thrown  back  into 
the  depths  of  barbarism,  during  the  primeval  ages,  it  is  im- 
possible to  estimate. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  415 

5.  Carnage  and  devastation  were  the  principal  occupations 
of  mankind  ;  and  prisoners  of  war,  even  down  to  Roman  times, 
were  liable  to  be  butchered,  or  to  be  converted  into  slaves. 
Amidst  the  din  of  almost  incessant  conflicts,  the  rage  for  blood- 
shed, plunder,  and  desolation,  and  the  consequent  utter  inse- 
curity of  life,  liberty,  and  property,  it  is  not  strange  that  the 
progress  of  man,  during  more  than  three  thousand  years,  should 
have  been  so  tottering  and  feeble. 

6.  The  mistress  of  the  world,  when  there  were  no  more 
valuable  conquests  to  make,  dazzled  by  her  giddy  hight,  and 
corrupted  by  plunder  and  by  power,  began  to  feel  the  opera- 
tion of  those  laws,  under  which  the  aggregated  possessions  of 
all  the  great  conquerors  of  preceding  times,  had  crumbled  into 
ruins.  Her  decadence  would  have  been  accomplished  by  her 
own  Aveight.  But  time  was  not  given  for  the  full  operation  of 
the  internal  causes  of  dissolution  ;  and  the  catastrophe  was 
accelerated  by  frequent  inundations  of  barbarians. 

v.  It  is  probable  that  at  no  period  since  the  creation  of  man, 
had  every  vestige  of  science,  every  monument  of  art,  and  every 
trace  of  civilization,  been  more  completely  obscured  and  de- 
molished, than  after  the  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire.  To  ren- 
der the  eclipse  total,  wave  after  wave  of  unmitigated  barbar- 
ism rolled  over  the  face  of  Europe  for  several  centuries ;  so 
that,  even  the  tradition  of  former  improvements  must  have 
been  nearly  extinguished. 

8.  So  intense  was  the  obscuration,  that  it  would  seem  to 
have  been  utterly  impossible  that  the  human  race  should  ever 
emerge  from  the  gloom  ;  and,  had  not  the  germ  of  intellectual 
resurrection  been  deeply  and  firmly  implanted  in  the  breast 
of  man,  the  condition  of  the  European  world  would  have  been 
hopeless. 

9.  But  an  indomitable  propensity  to  think,  to  compare,  to 
reason,  to  obviate  physical  impediments,  and  to  explore  truth 
through  its  material  and  mental  labyrinths, — to  ameliorate  his 
condition, — is  a  distinctive  trait  in  the  very  nature  of  man. 
This  vital  principle  may  lie  dormant  for  ages,  but  is  never  ex- 
tinct.    Its  energy  may  be  enfeebled  by  savage  life,  crushed  by 


416  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

iniquitous  rulers,  torpified  by  despotism,  or  suspended  by  the 
ravages  of  war ;  but  whenever  favorable  circumstances  occur, 
it  is  ever  ready  to  act. 

10.  The  term  civilization  has  a  well-known  and  ample 
import.  It  implies  not  only  all  the  preceding  advances  of  hu- 
manity in  the  march  of  improvement,  but,  also,  every  step  in 
the  long  career  of  its  future  progress.  It  embraces  every  art 
and  science  already  known,  or  which  industry  may  hereafter 
evolve,  accident  elicit,  or  time  unfold.  It  indicates  the  full  de- 
velopment of  the  moral,  intellectual,  and  physical  powers  of 
man,  as  an  individual,  as  well  as  the  utmost  attainable  perfec- 
tion in  all  the  civic  and  social  relations  of  society. 

11.  When  all  the  scattered  elements  of  good,  which  lie 
concealed  in  the  material  world,  shall  have  been  discovered, 
collected,  combined,  and  amplified  to  their  fullest  extent, — 
when  all  portions  of  the  moral  and  intellectual  domains,  shall 
have  reached  their  highest  culture, — when  the  knowledge  of 
every  attainable  law  of  the  universe  shall  have  enlightened  and 
expanded  the  human  understanding,  and  secured  the  unwaver- 
ing fealty  of  our  race, — when  man  shall  have  achieved  every 
conquest,  of  which  his  nature  is  capable,  over  himself  as  well 
as  over  the  visible  world, — over  both  mind  and  matter, — then, 
and  not  till  then,  will  he  be  fully  civilized. 

12.  It  is  only  by  patiently  finding  out,  and  scrupulously  ob- 
serving the  beneficent  laws  of  the  Creator,  that  man  can  rise, 
from  grade  to  grade,  in  the  scale  of  being.  Each  evolution 
of  the  latent  properties  of  matter,  every  unknown  utility,  to 
which  its  various  modifications  may  be  adapted,  every  new 
and  useful  idea  which  practical  skill  and  patient  industry  may 
develop,  and  every  mental  coruscation  which  now  lies  dor- 
mant in  the  infinite  regions  of  abstruse  philosophy,  will  suc- 
cessively augment  human  civilization  and  happiness. 

13.  The  discovery  of  the  polarity  of  magnetized  iron,  insig- 
nificant as  it  doubtless  appeared  at  the  time,  has,  nevertheless, 
changed  the  face  of  the  world.  It  has  converted  the  broad 
and  fearful  expanse  of  the  ocean  into  a  highway  common  to 
all.     It  has  produced  the  construction  of  ships,  the  multiplica- 


FIFTH     BOOK.  417 

tion  and  growth  of  cities,  tlie  discovery  of  a  new  continent, 
the  safe  and  rapid  interchange  of  all  the  products  of  the  earth, 
the  near  approximation  of  distant  countries,  and  the  multiplied 
blessings  of  commerce.  It  has  broken  down  the  otherwise 
impassable  barriers  which  separated  many  portions  of  the 
human  race  from  each  other;  and,  by  a  prompt  intercommu- 
nication of  every  new  art,  and  every  growing  science,  will  ul- 
timately produce  a  perfect  fusion  of  national  prejudices,  and 
convert  the  whole  human  race  into  one  great  family. 


I  <    ♦    >  » 


PROGRESS   OF    SCIENCE. 

1.  Let  Science  spread  her  wings, 

Triumphantly  on  high, 
And  teach  the  toneless  strings 

Of  hearts  that  sink  and  sigh  ; 
Let  Truth's  broad  banner  be  unfurled 
In  every  land, — o'er  all  the  world ! 

2.  The  gloom  of  Error's  night 

Has  long  oppressed  our  race, 
And  Superstition's  blight 

In  every  age  we  trace  ; 
But  glorious  Science  lifts  the  vail, — 
Exalts  the  soul, — forbids  its  wail ! 

3.  Tyrants  may  frown  in  spite, 

And  mourn  their  waning  power  ; 
Their  sun  shall  set  in  night, — 

Time,  speed  the  happy  hour  ! — 
Proud  Science  shall  unbounded  run, 
Extensive  as  yon  circling  sun  ! 

4.  Let  all  their  skill  unite. 

And  each  sustain  his  part. 
To  speed  her  progress  bright. 

In  each  mysterious  art ; 
Then  honor  shall  their  labors  crown,—- 
Their  sun  in  splendor  shall  go  down  I 

18* 


J.   CHASB. 


418  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 


LESSON    CLXIV* 

Note. — The  following  poetry  purports  to  be  a  soliloquy  by  Cato  in  con" 
templating  the  immortality  of  the  soul  as  taught  by  Plato,  the  Grecian 
philosopher. 

IMMORTALITY    OP    THE    SOUL. 

ADDISON. 

1.  It  must  be  so  ;  Plato,  thou  reasonest  well ! 
Else  whence  this  pleasing  hope,  this  fond  desire, 
This  longing  after  immortality  ? 

Or  whence  this  secret  dread,  and  inward  horror, 
Of  falling  into  nought  ?  why  shrinks  the  soul 
Back  on  herself,  and  startles  at  destruction  ? 
'Tis  the  Divinity  that  stirs  within  us  ; 
'Tis  Heaven  itself  that  points  out  an  hereafter, 
And  intimates  eternity  to  man. 

2.  Eternity  !  thou  pleasing,  dreadful  thought  1 
Through  what  variety  of  untried  being, 

Through  what  new  scenes  and  changes  must  we  pass  ? 
The  wide,  the  unbounded  prospect,  lies  before  me  ; 
But  shadows,  clouds,  and  darkness  rest  upon  it. 
Here  will  I  hold.     If  there's  a  Power  above  us, 
(And  that  there  is,  all  Nature  cries  aloud 
Through  all  her  works,)  lie  must  delight  in  virtue ; 
And  that  wliich  He  delights  in,  must  be  happy  ; 
But  when  ?  or  where  ?     This  world  was  made  for  Caesar. 
I'm  weary  of  conjectures.     This  must  end  them. 

\_Laying  his  hand  on  his  sword.'\ 

3-  Thus  am  I  doubly  armed  ;  my  death  and  life, 
My  bane  and  antidote  are  both  before  me ; 
This  in  a  moment  brings  me  to  an  end  ; 
But  this  informs  me  I  shall  never  die. 
The  soul,  secured  in  her  existence,  smiles 
At  the  drawn  dagger,  and  defies  its  point. 
The  stars  shall  fade  away,  the  sun  himself 
Grow  dim  with  age,  and  Nature  sink  in  years : 


FIFTH     BOOK.  419 

But  thou  shalt  flourish  in  immortal  youth, 

Unhurt  amidst  the  war  of  elements, 

The  wreck  of  matter,  and  the  crush  of  worlds. 


LESSON   CLXY* 
CONSOLA.TIONS   OF   IMMORTALITY. 

ROBERT  MONTQOMEHT. 

1.  If  Death  forever  doom  us  to  the  clod. 
And  earth-born  pleasure  be  our  only  god, 
The  rapid  years  shall  bury  all  we  love. 
Nor  leave  6ne  hope  to  re-unite  above ! 

No  more  the  voice  of  Friendship  shall  beguile, 
No  more  the  mother  on  her  infant  smile ; 
But  vanishing,  like  snow  upon  the  deep, 
Nature  shall  perish  in  eternal  sleep. 

2.  Illustrious  beacons  !  spirits  of  the  just ! 
Are  ye  embosomed  in  perennial  dust  ? 

Shall  ye,  whose  names,  undimmed  by  ages,  shine 

Bright  as  the  flame  that  marked  you  for  divine, 

Forever  slumber, — never  meet  again. 

Too  poor  for  sorrow,  too  sublime  for  pain  ? 

Ah,  no !  celestial  Fancy  loves  to  fly 

With  eager  pinion  and  prophetic  eye, 

To  radiant  dwellings  of  immortal  fire, 

Where  pain  can  never  come,  and  pleasure  never  tire. 

There,  as  the  choral  melodies  career, 

Sublimely  rolling  through  the  seraph-sphere. 

In  angel-forms,  you  all  again  unite. 

And  bathe  in  streams  of  everlasting  light ! 

3.  When  friends  have  vanished  to  their  viewless  home, 
And  we  are  left  companionless  to  roam, 

0,  what  can  cheer  our  melancholy  way. 
But  hopes  of  union  in  the  Land  of  Day  ? 
Soul-loved  companions  of  our  early  years, 
Warmed  at  our  joys,  and  weeping  at  our  tears, 


420  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

How  oft-renewing  Memory  paints  eacli  liour, 
When  Frieudsliip  triumphed,  and  the  heart  had  power  1 
Yes ;  hallowed  are  these  visions  of  the  brain, 
When  Heaven  unvails,  and  loved  ones  smile  again ! 

4.  O  say !  how  will  the  skeptic  brave  the  hour 
Of  Death's  divine,  inexorable  power. 
When  all  this  fairy  world  shall  glide  away, 
Like  midnight  dreams  before  the  morning  ray  ? 
See !  how  he  shudders  at  the  thought  of  death ! 
What  doubt  and  horror  hang  upon  his  breath ! 

5.  Go,  child  of  darkness !  sec  a  Christian  die ! 
No  horror  pales  his  lip,  or  rolls  his  eye ; 
No  dreadful  doubts,  or  dreamy  terrors  start 
The  hope  Religion  pillows  on  his  heart. 
When,  with  a  dying  hand,  he  waves  adieu 
To  all  who  love  <so  well,  and  weep  so  true ! 
Calm  as  an  infant  to  the  mother's  breast, 
Turns  fondly  longing  for  its  wonted  rest. 
He  pants  for  where  congenial  spirits  stray, 
Turns  to  his  God,  and  sighs  his  soul  away ! 


LESSON   CLXYU 


EZPLANATORT    NOTES. — 1.     CHRISTIAN    STATES    3X6    those,    in    which 

Christianity  is  recognized  as  the  true  religion. 

2.  In  tol'  er  ancb  is  the  act  of  restraining  or  suppressing  religious 
opinions  and  modes  of  worship  not  prescribed  by  law.  In  the  United 
States,  it  is  not  admitted  that  Government  or  individuals  have  any  right 
to  interfere  in  reUgious  matters. 

EUROPE   AND   AMERICA   CONTRASTED. 

WEBSTER. 

[From  a  Speech  delivered  in  the  House  of  Representatives,  April  14,  1826.] 
1.  In-  many  respects,  the  European  and  American  nations 
are  alike.  They  are  alike  Christian  States,'  civilized  States, 
and  commercial  States.  They  have  access  to  the  same 
common  fountains  of  intelligence ;  they  all  draw  from  those 


FIFTH     BOOK.  421 

sources  whioh  belono;  to  the  wliolc  civilized  world.  In  knowl- 
edge  and  letters, — in  the  arts  of  peace  and  war,  they  differ  in 
degrees ;  but  tbey  bear,  nevertheless,  a  general  resemblance. 

2.  On  the  other  hand,  in  matters  of  government  and  social 
institutions,  the  nations  on  this  continent  are  founded  upon 
principles  which  never  did  prevail,  in  considerable  extent,  either 
at  any  other  time,  or  in  any  other  place.  There  has  never 
been  presented  to  the  mind  of  man  a  more  interesting  subject 
of  contemplation,  than  the  establishment  of  so  many  nations 
in  America,  partaking  in  the  civilization  and  in  the  arts  of  the 
old  world,  but  having  left  behind  them  those  cumbrous  insti- 
tutions which  had  their  origin  in  a  dark  and  military  age. 

3.  Whatsoever  European  experience  has  developed,  favorable 
to  the  freedom  and  the  happiness  of  man, — whatsoever  Euro- 
pean genius  has  invented  for  his  improvement  or  gratification, — 
whatsoever  of  refinement  or  polish  the  culture  of  European 
society  presents  for  his  adoption  and  enjoyment, — all  this  is 
offered  to  man  in  America,  with  the  additional  advantages  of 
the  full  power  of  erecting  forms  of  government  on  free  and 
simple  principles,  without  overturning  institutions  suited  to 
times  long  passed,  but  too  strongly  supported,  either  by  inter- 
ests or  prejudices,  to  be  shaken  without  convulsions. 

4.  This  unprecedented  state  of  things  presents  the  happiest 
«cf  all  occasions  for  an  attempt  to  establish  national  intercourse 
upon  improved  principles, — upon  principles  tending  to  peace, 
and  the  mutual  prosperity  of  nations.  In  this  respect,  America, 
the  whole  of  America,  has  a  new  career  before  her-  If  we  look 
back  on  the  history  of  Europe,  we  see  how  great  a  ^-)ortion  of 
the  last  two  centuries  her  states  have  been  at  war  for  interests 
connected  mainly  with  her  feudal  monarchies, — wars  for  partic- 
ular dynasties, — wars  to  support  or  defeat  particular  succes- 
sions,— wars  to  enlarge  or  curtail  the  dominion  of  particular 
ci'owns, — wars  to  support  or  dissolve  family  alliances, — Avars,  in 
fine,  to  enforce  or  to  resist  religious  intolerance." 

5.  What  long  and  bloody  chapters  do  these  not  fill,  in  the 
history  of  European  politics !  Who  does  not  see.  and  who 
does  not  rejoice  to  see,  that  America  has  a  glorious  chance  of  es- 


422  SANDEES'     NEW     SEEIES. 

caping,  at  least,  these  causes  of  contention  ?  Who  does  not  see, 
and  who  does  not  rejoice  to  see,  that,  on  this  continent,  under 
other  forms  of  government,  we  have  before  us  the  noble  hope 
of  being  able,  by  the  mere  influence  of  "civil  and  religious  lib- 
erty, to  dry  up  these  outpouring  fountains  of  blood,  and  to  ex- 
tinguish these  consuming  fires  of  war? 

6.  The  general  opinion  of  the  age  favors  such  hopes  and 
such  prospects.  There  is  a  growing  disposition  to  treat  the 
intercourse  of  nations  more  like  the  useful  intercourse  of 
friends;  philosophy,  just  views  of  national  advantage,  good 
sense,  and  the  dictates  of  a  common  religion,  and  an  increas- 
ing conviction  that  war  is  not  the  interest  of  the  human  race, 
— all  concur  to  increase  the  interest  created  by  this  new  ac- 
cession to  the  list  of  nations. 


LESSON  CLXYIU 

Explanatory  Notes.— 1.  Ar'  nold  Wink'  el  ried,  a  Swiss  patriot,  in 
the  battle  of  Sempach,  July  9,  1386,  by  the  sacrifice  of  liis  life,  enabled  his 
countrymen  to  defeat  the  Austrian  troops.  In  order  to  break  the  Austrian 
ranks,  he  rushed  on  them,  grasped  several  lances,  and,  heedless  of  the 
thrusts,  bore  them  to  the  ground.  His  countrymen  rushed  through  the 
opening  thus  made,  and  won  the  victory. 

2.  Sir  Henry  Vane,  one  of  the  early  governors  of  Massachusetts,  on 
his  return  to  England,  rendered  himself  conspicuous  for  his  public  acts, 
and,  on  one  occasion,  for  his  advocacy  of  a  Repubhcan  govermnent,  on 
which  account  he  was  falsely  accused  of  treason,  condemned,  and  be- 
headed, June  14,  1662. 

3.  Lord  Rus'  sell,  an  English  nobleman  of  acknowledged  probity,  sin- 
cerity, and  private  worth,  was  unjustly  condemned  for  treason,  and  be- 
headed, July  21,  1683. 

BEAUTY   OF   THE   SCENE   ENHANCES   THE   BEAUTY   OP 

THE   DEED. 

E.  W.  EMERSON. 

1.  The  high  and  divine  beauty  which  can  be  loved  without 
effeminacy,  is  that  which  is  found  in  combination  with  the  hu- 
man Avill,  and  never  separate.  Beauty  is  the  mark  God  sets 
upon  virtue.  Every  natural  action  is  graceful.  Every  heroic 
act  is,  also,  decent,  and   causes  the  place  and  the  bystanders 


FIFTH     BOOK.  423 

to  sbine.     We  are  taught  by  great  actions  that  the  universe  is 
the  property  of  every  individual  in  it. 

2.  Every  rational  creature  has  all  nature  for  his  dowry  and 
estate.  It  is  his,  if  he  will.  He  may  divest  himself  of  it ;  he 
may  creep  into  a  corner,  and  abdicate  his  kingdom,  as  most 
men  do ;  but  he  is  entitled  to  the  world  by  his  constitution. 
In  proportion  to  the' energy  of  his  thought  and  will,  he  takes 
up  the  world  into  himself.  "  All  those  things,  for  which  men 
plow,  build,  or  sail,  obey  virtue,"  said  an  ancient  historian. 
"  The  winds  and  the  waves  are  ahvays  on  the  side  of  the  ablest 
navigators."  So  are  the  sun,  and  moon,  and  all  the  stars  of 
heaven. 

3.  When  a  noble  act  is  done, — perchance  in  a  scene  of  great 
natural  beautj% — when  Leonidas  and  his  three  hundred  mar- 
tyrs consume  one  day  in  dying,  and  the  sun  and  moon  come 
each  and  look  at  them  once  in  the  steep  defile  of  Thermop- 
ylae,— when  Arnold  Winkelried\  in  the  high  Alps,  under  the 
shadow  of  the  avalanche,  gathers  in  his  side  a  sheaf  of  Aus- 
trian spears  to  break  the  line  for  his  comrades, — are  not  these 
heroes  entitled  to  add  the  beauty  of  the  scene,  to  the  beauty 
of  the  deed  ? 

4.  When  the  bark  of  Columbus  nears  the  shore  of  America, 
— before  it,  the  beach  lined  with  savages  fleeing  out  of  all  their 
huts  of  cane, — the  sea  behind,  and  the  purple  mountains  of  the 
Indian  Archipelago  around,  can  we  separate  the  man  from 
the  living  picture  ?  Does  not  the  New  World  clothe  his  form 
with  her  palm-groves  and  savannas  as  fit  drapery  ? 

5.  Ever  does  natural  beauty  steal  in  like  air,  and  envelop 
great  actions.  When  Sir  Henry  Vane'  was  dragged  up  the 
Tower-hill,  sitting  on  a  sled,  to  suffer  death,  as  the  champion 
of  the  English  laws,  one  of  the  multitude  cried  out : — "  You 
never  sat  on  so  glorious  a  seat."  Charles  IL,  to  intimidate 
the  citizens  of  London,  caused  the  patriot.  Lord  RusselP,  to  be 
drawn  in  an  open  coach,  through  the  principal  streets  of  the 
city,  on  his  way  to  the  scaffold.  "  But,"  to  use  the  simple 
narrative  of  his  biographer,  "  the  multitude  imagined  they 
saw  liberty  and  virtue  sitting  by  his  side 


424  SANDERS'    NEW     SERIES. 

6.  In  private  places,  among  sordid  objects,  an  act  of  truth 
or  lieroism  seems,  at  once,  to  draw  to  itself  the  sky  as  its  tem- 
ple,— the  sun  as  its  candle.  Nature  stretches  out  her  arms  to 
embrace  man,  only  let  his  thoughts  be  of  equal  greatness. 
Willingly  does  she  follow  his  steps  with  the  rose  and  the  vio- 
let, and  bend  her  lines  of  grandeur  and  grace  to  the  decoration 
of  her  darling  child.  Only  let  his  thoughts  be  of  equal  scope, 
and  the  frame  will  suit  the  picture.  A  virtuous  man  is  in  uni- 
son with  her  works,  and  makes  the  central  figure  of  the  visi- 
ble sphere. 


LESSON   CLXYHI, 

ADDRESS   OF   LEONIDAS. 


RICHAED  GLOVEB. 

1.  He  alone 
Remains  unshaken.     Dignity  and  grace 
Adorn  his  frame,  and  manly  beauty,  joined 
With  strength  Herculean.     On  his  aspect  shines 
Sublimest  virtues  and  desire  of  fame, 

Where  justice  gives  the  laurel ;  in  his  eye 
The  inextinguishable  spark  which  fires 
The  souls  of  patriots ;  while  his  brow  supports 
Undaunted  valor,  and  contempt  of  death. 

2.  Serene  he  rose,  and  thus  addressed  the  throng  : — 
"  Why  this  astonishment  on  every  face, 

Ye  men  of  Sparta  ?     Does  the  name  of  death 
Create  this  fear  and  wonder  ?     O  my  friends  ! 
Why  do  we  labor  through  the  arduous  paths 
Which  lead  to  virtue  ?     Fruitless  were  the  toil, 
Above  the  reach  of  human  feet  were  placed 
The  distant  summit,  if  the  fear  of  death 
Could  intercept  our  passage.     But  in  vain 
His  blackest  frowns  and  terrors  he  assumes 
To  shake  the  firmness  of  the  mind  which  knows 
That,  wanting  virtue,  life  is  pain  and  woe ; 


FIFTH     BOOK.  425 

That,  wanting  liberty,  even  virtue  mourns, 
And  looks  ai'ound  for  happiness  in  vain, 

3.  "  Then  speak,  O  Sparta !  and  demand  my  life ; 
My  heart,  exulting,  answers  to  thy  call, 
And  smiles  on  glorious  fate.     To  live  with  fame 
Is  allowed  to  the  many ;  but  to  die 
With  equal  luster  is  a  blessing  Heaven 
Selects  from  all  the  choicest  boons  of  fate, 
And,  with  a  sparing  hand,  on  few  bestows." 
Salvation  thus  to  Sparta  he  proclaimed. 
Joy,  wrapt  awhile  in  admiration,  paused, 
Suspending  praise  ;  nor  praise  at  last  resounds 
In  high  acclaim  to  rend  the  arch  of  heaven ; 
A  reverential  murmur  breathes  applause. 


I  •  ♦  > . 


LESSON  CLXIX+ 

Note. — Al'chemt  was  an  imaginary  and  pretended  science,  much 
cultivated  in  tlie  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries.  It  was  devoted  to 
the  transmutation  of  base  metals  into  gold,  to  the  finding  of  a  universal 
remedy  for  diseases,  and  a  universal  solvent,  or  fluid  that  would  dissolve 
all  substances,  as  also  to  other  attempts,  now  justly  treated  as  ridiculous. 

SOLILOQUY    OF    THE    DYING    ALCHEMIST. 

N.   P.   WUjLIS. 

1.  The  night  wind  with  a  desolate  moan  swept  by ; 
And  the  old  shutters  of  the  turret  swung, 
Creaking  upon  their  hinges ;  and  the  moon. 

As  the  torn  edges  of  the  clouds  flew  past, 
Struggled  aslant  the  stained  and  broken  panes 
So  dimly,  that  the  watchful  eye  of  death 
Scarcely  was  conscious  when  it  went  and  came. 

2.  Tlie  fire  beneath  his  crucible  was  low  ; 

Yet  still  it  burned ;  and  ever  as  his  thoughts 
Grew  insupportable,  he  raised  himself 
Upon  his  wasted  arm,  and  stirred  the  coals 
With  difiicult  energy,  and  when  the  rod 


426  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Fell  from  his  nerveless  fingers,  and  liis  eye 
Felt  faint  within  its  socket,  he  shrunk  back 
Upon  his  pallet,  and,  with  unclosed  lips, 
Muttered  a  curse  on  death  ! 

8.  The  silent  room, 

From  its  dim  corners,  mockingly  gave  back 
His  rattling  breath  ;  the  humming  in  the  fire 
Had  the  distinctness  of  a  knell ;  and,  when 
Duly  the  antique  horologe  beat  one, 
He  drew  a  phial  from  beneath  his  head. 
And  drank.     And  instantly  his  lips  compressed, 
And,  with  a  shudder  in  his  skeleton  frame. 
He  rose  with  supernatural  strength,  and  sat 
Upright,  and  communed  with  himself: — 

4.  I  did  not  think  to  die 

Till  I  had  finished  what  I  had  to  do ; 

I  thought  to  pierce  th'  eternal  secret  through 

With  this  my  mortal  eye  ; 
I  felt, — 0  God !  it  seemeth  even  now 
This  can  not  be  the  death-dew  on  my  brow ! 

5.  And  yet  it  is, — I  feel, 

Of  this  dull  sickness  at  my  heart,  afraid ; 

And  in  my  eyes  the  death-sparks  flash  and  fade  ; 

And  something  seems  to  steal 
Over  my  bosom  like  a  frozen  hand, — 
Binding  its  pulses  with  an  icy  band. 

6.  And  this  is  death  !     But  why 
Feel  I  this  wild  recoil  ?     It  can  not  be 
Th'  immortal  spirit  shuddereth  to  be  free  I^ 

Would  it  not  leap  to  fly 
Like  a  chained  eaglet  at  its  parent's  call  ? 
I  fear, — I  fear,  that  this  poor  life  is  all ! 

7.  Yet  thus  to  pass  away  ! — 

To  live  but  for  a  hope  that  mocks  at  last, — 


FIFTH     BOOK.  427 

To  agonize,  to  strive,  to  watch,  to  fast, 

To  waste  the  hght  of  day, 
Night's  better  beauty,  feeling,  fancy,  thought. 
All  that  we  have  and  are, — for  this, — for  naught ! 

8.  Grant  me  another  year, 

God  of  my  spirit ! — but  a  day, — to  win 
Something  to  satisfy  this  thirst  within  ! 

I  would  knoio  something  here  ! 
Break  for  me  but  one  seal  that  is  unbroken ! 
Speak  for  me  but  one  word  that  is  unspoken  ! 

9.  Vain, — vain  ! — my  brain  is  turning 

With  a  swift  dizziness,  and  my  heart  grows  sick, 
And  these  hot  temple-throbs  come  fast  and  thick, 

And  I  am  freezing, — burning, — 
Dying !  O  God  !  if  I  might  only  live  ! 
My  phial Ha  !  it  thrills  me, — I  revive. 

10.  Ay, — were  not  man  to  die 

He  were  too  mighty  for  this  narrow  sphere ! 
Had  he  but  time  to  brood  on  knowledge  here, — 

Could  he  but  train  his  eye, — 
Might  he  but  wait  the  mystic  word  and  hour, — 
Only  his  Maker  would  transcend  his  power ! 

11.  Earth  has  no  mineral  strange, — 
Th'  illimitable  air  no  hidden  wings, — 
Water  no  quality  in  covert  springs, — 

And  fire  no  power  to  change, — 
Seasons  no  mystery,  and  stars  no  spell, 
Which  the  unwasting  soul  might  not  compel. 

12.  Oh,  but  for  time  to  track 

The  upper  stars  into  the  pathless  sky, — 
To  see  th'  invisible  spirits,  eye  to  eye,— 

To  hurl  the  lightning  back, — 
To  tread  unhurt  the  sea's  dim-lighted  halls, — 
To  chase  Day's  chariot  to  the  horizon-walls, — ■ 


428  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

13.  And  more,  much  more, — for  now 

The  life-scaled  fountains  of  my  nature  move, — 
To  nurse  and  purify  this  human  love, — 

To  clear  the  godlike  brow 
Of  weakness  and  mistrust,  and  bow  it  down 
Worthy  and  beautiful,  to  the  much-loved  one, — 

14.  This  were,  indeed,  to  feel 

The  soul-thirst  elakcn  at  the  living  stream, — 
To  live, — 0  God  !  that  life  is  but  a  dream  ! 

And  death Aha  !  I  reel, — 

Dim, — dim, — I  faint, — darkness  comes  o'er  my  eye,- 
Cover  me  !  save  me  ! God  of  Heaven  !  I  die  1 

15.  'Twas  morning,  and  the  old  man  lay  alone. 
No  friend  had  closed  his  eyehds,  and  his  lips, 
Open  and  ashy  pale,  th'  expression  wore 

Of  his  death  struggle.     His  long  silvery  hair 
Lay  on  his  hollow  temples  thin  and  wild  ; 
His  frame  was  wasted,  and  his  features  wan 
And  haggard  as  with  want,  and  in  his  palm 
His  nails  were  driven  deep,  as  if  the  throe 
Of  the  last  agony  had  wrung  him  sore. 

16.  The  storm  was  raging  still.     The  shutter  swung 
Creaking  as  harshly  in  the  fitful  wind. 

And  all  without  went  on, — as  aye  it  will, 
Sunshine  or  tempest,  reckless  that  a  heart 
Is  breaking,  or  has  broken,  in  its  change. 

1*7.  The  fire  beneath  the  crucible  was  out; 
The  vessels  of  his  mystic  art  lay  round, 
Useless  and  cold  as  the  ambitious  hand 
That  fashioned  them,  and  the  small  rod, 
Familiar  to  his  touch  for  threescore  years, 
Lay  on  th'  alembic's  rim,  as  if  it  still 
Mio-ht  vex  the  elements  at  its  master's  will. 

18.  And  thus  had  passed  from  its  unequal  frame 
A  soul  of  fire, — a  sun-bent  eagle  stricken 


FIFTH     BOOK.  429 

From  bis  high  soaring  down, — an  instrument 
Broken  with  its  own  compass.     O,  how  poor 
Seems  the  rich  gift  of  genius,  when  it  lies, 
Like  the  adventurous  bird  that  hath  outflown 
His  strength  upon  the  sea,  ambition  wrecked, — 
A  thing  the  thrush  might  pity,  as  she  sits 
Brooding  in  quiet  on  her  lowly  nest ! 


LESSON    CLXX* 
DUTIES    OF    AMERICAN    CITIZENS. 

WATLAND. 

1.  It  devolves  on  us  to  sustain  and  chasten  the  love  of  lib- 
erty, among  the  friends  of  reform  in  other  nations.  It  is  not 
enough  that  the  people  everywhere  desire  a  change.  The 
subversion  of  a  bad  government  is,  by  no  means,  synonymous 
with  the  establishment  of  a  better.  A  people  must  know 
what  it  is  to  be  free ;  they  must  have  learned  to  revei'ence 
themselves,  and  bow  implicitly  to  the  principles  of  right,  or 
nothing  can  be  gained  by  a  change  of  institutions.  A  consti- 
tution written  on  paper  is  utterly  worthless,  unless  it,  also,  be 
wi'itten  on  the  hearts  of  a  people. 

2.  Unless  men  have  learned  to  govern  themselves,  they  may 
be  plunged  into  all  the  horrors  of  civil  war,  and  yet  emerge 
from  the  most  fearful  revolution,  a  lawless  nation  of  sanguin- 
ary slaves.  But,  if  this  country  remain  happy,  and  its  insti- 
tutions free,  it  will  render  the  people  of  other  coimtries  ac- 
quainted with  the  fundamental  principles  of  the  science  of 
government ;  this  knowledge  will  silently  produce  its  practical 
results,  and  insensibly  train  them  for  freedom. 

3.  From  the  relation  which  we  now  sustain  to  the  friends  of 
free  institutions,  it  is  evident  that  to  this  nation  they  will  look 
for  precedent  and  example.  Thus  far  our  institutions  have 
conferred  on  man  all  that  any  form  of  government  was  ever 
expected  to  bestow.  Should  the  grand  experiment  which  we 
are  now  making  on  the  human  character,  succeed,  there  can  be 


430  SANDERS'      NEW      SERIES. 

no  doubt  that  other  governments,  following  our  example,  Avill 
be  formed  on  the  principles  of  equality  and  right, 

4.  And,  if  the  cause  of  true  religion  and  man  shall  eventu- 
ally triumph,  who  can  tell  how  splendid  are  the  destinies 
which  will  then  await  this  country  ?  One  feeling, — the  love 
of  liberty,  will  have  cemented  together  all  the  nations  of  th.e 
earth.  Though  speaking  different  languages  and  inhabiting 
different  regions,  all  will  be  but  one  people,  united  in  the  pur- 
suit of  one  object, — the  happiness  of  the  whole. 

5.  At  the  head  of  this  truly  holy  alliance,  if  faithful  to  her 
trust,  will  then  this  nation  be  found, — the  first  that  taught 
them  to  be  free ;  the  first  that  suffered  in  the  contest ;  the 
nation  that  most  freely  and  most  firmly  stood  by  them  in  the 
hour  of  their  calamity  ;  at  her  feet  will  they  lay  the  tribute 
of  universal  gratitude.  Each  one  bound  to  her  by  every  sen- 
timent of  interest  and  affection,  she  will  be  the  center  of  the 
new  system,  which  shall  then  emerge  out  of  the  chaos  of 
ancient  institutions.  Henceforth  she  will  sway  for  ages  the 
destinies  of  the  world. 

6.  Who  does  not  kindle  into  enthusiasm,  as  he  contemplates 
the  mighty  interests  connected  with  the  prosperity  of  this 
country  ?  AVith  the  success  of  our  institutions,  the  cause  of 
man  throughout  the  civilized  world,  seems  indissolubly  inter- 
woven. 

7.  It  is  not  our  duty  or  our  policy  to  do  any  thing  which 
shall  at  all  interfere  with  the  internal  concerns  of  any  other 
government.  We  should  thus  compromise  the  fundamental 
principle  of  our  constitution,  that  civil  institutions  are  to  be 
established  or  modified  only  in  obedience  to  the  will  of  the 
majority.  But  this  ivill  can  be  ascertained  only  by  allowing 
each  nation  to  select  for  itself  that  form  of  government,  which 
it  chooses. 

8.  If  the  majority  of  any  nation  are  willing  to  be  slaves,  no 
power  on  earth  can  make  them  free.  It  is  certainly  their  mis- 
fortune ;  but  physical  force  can  do  them  no  good.  We  may 
extend  to  them  every  facility  for  the  dissemination  of  knowl- 
edge and  religion  ;  this  we  owe  to  them  as  brethren  of  the 


FIFTH      BOOK.  431 

human  race ;  but  liaviug  done  this,  we  must  commit  them  to 
the  decision  of  an  All-wise  and  holy  Providence. 

9.  It  is  evident,  then,  that  all  we  are  called  upon  to  do  for 
other  nations  in  the  cause  of  liberty,  must  be  done  at  home. 
Our  power  resides  in  the  force  of  our  example.  It  is  by  ex- 
hibiting to  other  nations  the  practical  excellence  of  a  govern- 
ment of  law,  that  they  will  learn  its  nature  and  advantages, 
and  will,  in  due  time,  achieve  their  own  emancipation.  The 
question,  then,  what  can  we  do  to  promote  the  cause  of  lib- 
erty throughout  the  world,  resolves  itself  into  another,  what 
can  we  do  to  insure  the  success  of  that  experiment  which  our 
institutions  are  making  upon  the  character  of  man  ? 

10.  Whatever  we  would  do  for  our  country,  must  be  done 
for  THE  PEOPLE.  Great  results  can  never  be  effected  in  any 
other  way.  Specially  is  this  the  case  under  a  republican  con- 
stitution. Here  the  people  are  not  only  the  real,  but  the  ac- 
knowledged, fountain  of  all  authority.  They  make  the  laws, 
and  they  control  the  execution  of  them.  They  direct  the  sen- 
ate, they  overawe  the  cabinet,  and  hence,  it  is  the  moral  and 
intellectual  character  of  the  people,  which  must  give  to  the 
"  very  age  and  body  of  our  institutions  their  form   and  press- 


ure." 


11.  So  long  as  our  people  remain  virtuous  and  intelligent, 
our  government  will  remain  stable.  While  they  clearly  per^ 
ceive,  and  honestly  decree  justice,  our  laws  will  be  wholesome^ 
and  the  principles  of  our  constitution  will  commend  themselves 
everywhere  to  the  common  sense  of  man.  But  should  they 
become  ignorant  and  vicious, — should  their  decisions  become 
the  dictates  of  passion  and  venality,  rather  than  of  reason  and 
of  right,  that  moment  are  our  liberties  at  an  end ;  and,  glad  to 
escape  from  the  despotism  of  millions,  we  shall  flee  for  shelter 
to  the  despotism  of  one.  Then  will  the  world's  last  hope  be 
extinguished,  and  darkness  brood  for  ages  over  the  whole  hu- 


a 

man  race 


12.  Not  less  important  is  moral  and  intellectual  cultivation, 
if  we  would  prepare  our  country  to  stand  forth  the  bulwark 
of  the  liberties  of  the  world.     Should  the  time  to  try  men's 


432  SANDERS'    NEW    SERIES. 

souls  ever  come  again,  our  reliance  under  God  must  be,  as  it 
was  before,  on  tlie  character  of  our  citizens.  Our  soldiers 
must  be  men  whose  bosoms  have  swollen  with  the  conscious 
dignity  of  freemen,  and  who,  firmly  trusting  in  a  righteous 
God,  can  look  unmoved  on  embattled  nations  leagued  together 
for  purposes  of  wrong. 

13.  When  the  means  of  education  everywhere  throughout 
our  country,  shall  be  free  as  the  air  we  breathe, — when  every 
family  shall  have  its  Bible,  then,  and  not  till  then,  shall  we 
exert  our  proper  influence  on  the  cause  of  man ;  then,  and  not 
till  then,  shall  we  be  prepared  to  stand  forth  between  the  op- 
pressor and  the  oppressed,  and  say  to  the  proud  wave  of  dom- 
ination : — Thus  far  shalt  thou  come  and  no  farther. 


>>  ♦  «* 


LESSON   CLXXU 

Explanatory  Notes. — 1.  The  II'  iad  and  0  dys'  sey  are  two  very  cel- 
ebrated poems  writteu  by  Homer,  the  great  Grecian  poet,  who  lived  about 
900  years  before  Christ. 

2.  Il  is'  sus  is  the  name  of  a  small  river  in  Greece. 

3.  Soi'  0  is  the  name  of  a  small  island  in  the  Grecian  Archipelago,  on 
which  it  is  claimed  Homer  resided  in  his  old  age,  at  which  time  it  is  said 
he  was  blind. 

DUTIES  OF  AMERICAN   CITIZENS.— Continued. 

WAYLAND. 

1.  The  paramount  duty  of  every  American  citizen,  is,  to 
put  in  requisition  every  possible  means  for  elevating  univer- 
sally the  intellectual  and  moral  character  of  our  people.  The 
intellectual  stores  of  the  English  language  are  open  before 
every  man,  in  which  he  may  find  all  the  knowledge  that  ho 
will  ever  need  to  form  his  opinions  upon  any  subjects,  on  which 
it  will  be  his  duty  to  decide.  A  man  who  can  not  read,  is  a 
being  not  contemplated  by  the  genius  of  our  constitution. 
Where  the  right  of  suffrage  is  extended  to  all,  he  is  certainly  a 
dangerous  member  of  the  community,  who  has  not  qualified 
himself  to  exercise  it. 

2.  Bat  though  the  entire  mass  of  our  population  should  be 
intellectually  educated,  still  only  a  part,  and  by  far  the  least 


FIFTH     BOOK.  433 

iu/portaut  part,  of  our  work  will  have  been  accomplisliecl. 
We  Lave  iucreased  the  power  of  the  people,  but  we  have  left 
it  doubtful  in  what  direction  that  power  will  be  exerted.  We 
have  made  it  certain  that  a  public  opinion  will  be  formed  ;  but 
whether  that  opinion  shall  be  healthful  or  destructive,  is  yet 
to  be  decided. 

3.  We  have  cut  our  channels,  by  which  knowledge  may  be 
conveyed  to  every  individual  of  our  mighty  population  ;  it  re- 
mains for  us,  by  means  of  these  very  channels,  to  instill  into 
every  bosom  an  unshaken  reverence  for  the  principles  of  right. 
Having  gone  thus  far,  we  must  go  still  farther ;  for  we  must 
be  aware  that  the  tenure,  by  which  our  liberties  are  held,  can 
never  be  secure,  unless  morale  keep  pace  with  intellectual, 
education.  It  is  our  imperative  duty,  therefore,  to  cultivate 
the  moral  character  of  our  people. 

4.  The  means,  by  which  this  may  be  effected,  we  have  in  our 
own  hands.  We  have  a  book  of  tried  efficacy, — a  book  which 
contains  the  only  successful  appeal  that  was  ever  made  to  the 
moral  sense  of  man, — a  book  which  unfolds  the  only  remedy 
that  has  ever  been  applied  with  any  effect  to  the  direful  mal- 
adies of  the  human  heart.     I  refer  to  the  Holy  Scriptures. 

5.  That  the  truths  of  the  Bible  have  the  power  of  awaken- 
ino-  an  intense  moral  feeling  in  man  under  every  variety  of  char- 
acter, learned  or  ignorant,  civilized  or  savage, — that  they  make 
bad  men  good,  and  send  a  pulse  of  healthful  feeling  through 
all  the  domestic,  civil,  and  social  relations, — that  they  teach 
men  to  love  right,  to  hate  wrong,  and  to  seek  each  other's  wel- 
liu-e  as  the  children  of  one  common  Parent, — that  they  control 
the  baleful  passions  of  the  human  heart,  and  thus  make  man  a 
proficient  in  the  science  of  self-government, — and  that  they 
teach  him  to  aspire  after  conformity  to  a  Being  of  infinite  holi- 
ness, and  fill  him  witli  hopes  infinitely  more  purifying,  more 
exalting,  more  suited  to  his  nature  than  any  other,  which  this 
world  has  ever  known, — are  facts,  incontrovertible  as  the  laws 
of  philosophy,  or  the  demonstrations  of  mathematics. 

6.  Of  all  the  books,  with  which  this  world  has  been  del- 
uged, since  the  invention  of  writing,  the  number  of  those  are 

19 


434  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

very  small,  wtiich  lias  produced  any  perceptible  effect  on  the 
mass  of  human  character.  By  far  the  greater  part  have  been, 
even  by  their  contempqraries,  unnoticed  and  unknown.  Not 
many  a  one  has  made  its  little  mark  upon  the  generation  that 
produced  it,  though  it  sunk  with  that  generation  to  utter  for- 
getfulness.  But,  after  the  ceaseless  toil  of  six  thousand  years, 
how  few  have  been  the  works,  the  adamantine  basis  of  whose 
reputation  has  stood  unhurt  amid  the  fluctuations  of  time,  and 
whose  impressions  can  be  traced  through  successive  centuries 
on  the  history  of  our  species ! 

v.  When,  however,  such  a  work  appears,  its  effects  are  ab- 
solutely incalculable;  such  a  work  is  the  Iliad'  of  Homer. 
Who  can  estimate  the  results  produced  by  this  incomparable 
effort  of  a  single  mind  ?  Who  can  tell  what  Greece  owes  to 
this  first-born  of  song?  Her  breathing  marbles,  her  solemn 
temples,  her  unrivaled  elegance,  and  her  matchless  verse,  all 
point  us  to  that  transcendent  genius,  who,  by  the  very  splen- 
dor of  his  own  effulgence,  woke  the  human  intellect  from  the 
slumber  of  ages. 

8.  It  was  Homer  who  gave  laws  to  the  artist ;  it  was  Homer 
•who  inspired  the  poet ;  it  was  Homer  who  thundered  in  the  sen- 
ate, and,  more  than  all,  it  was  Homer  who  was  sung  by  the  peo- 
ple ;  and,  hence,  a  nation  was  cast  into  the  mold  of  one  mighty 
mind,  and  the  land  of  the  Iliad  became  the  region  of  taste, — 
the  birth-place  of  the  arts.  Nor  was  this  influence  confined 
•within  the  limits  of  Greece.  Long  after  the  scepter  of  em- 
pii'e  had  passed  westward,  genius  still  held  her  court  on  the 
banks  of  the  Ilissus,^  and,  from  the  country  of  Homer,  gave 
laws  to  the  world. 

9.  The  light  which  the  blind  old  man  of  Scio'  had  kindled 
in  Greece,  shed  its  radiance  over  Italy ;  and  thus  did  he  awaken 
a  second  nation  to  intellectual  existence.  And  we  may  form 
some  idea  of  the  power  which  this  one  work  has,  to  the  pres- 
ent day,  exerted  over  the  mind  of  man,  by  remarking  that "  na- 
tion after  nation,  and  century  after  century,  has  been  able  to 
do  little  more  than  transpose  his  incidents,  new-name  his  char- 
acters, and  paraphrase  his  s&ntiments." 


FIFTH     BOOK.  435 

10.  But,  considered  simply  as  an  intellectual  production, 
who  will  compare  the  poems  of  Homer  with  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures of  the  Old  and  New  Testament  ?  Where,  in  the  Iliad, 
shall  we  find  simplicity  and  pathos  to  vie  with  the  narrative 
of  Moses,  or  maxims  of  conduct  to  equal  in  wisdom  the  Proverbs 
of  Solomon,  or  sublimity  which  does  not  fade  away  before  the 
conceptions  of  Job  or  David,  of  Isaiah  or  St.  John.  But,  I  can 
not  pursue  this  comparison.  I  feel  that  it  is  doing  wrong  to 
the  mind  which  dictated  the  Iliad,  and  to  those  other  mighty 
intellects,  on  whom  the  light  of  the  holy  oracles  never  shone. 

11.  Who  that  has  read  his  poem  has  not  observed  how  he 
strove,  in  vain,  to  give  dignity  to  the  mythology  of  his  time? 
Who  has  not  seen  how  the  religion  of  his  country,  unable  to 
support  the  flight  of  his  imagination,  sunk  powerless  beneath 
him  ?  It  is  in  the  unseen  world  that  the  master-spirits  of  our 
race  breathe  freely,  and  are  at  home  ;  and  it  is  mournful  to  be- 
hold the  intellect  of  Homer,  striving  to  free  itself  from  the 
conceptions  of  materialism,  and  then  sinking  down  in  hopeless 
despair,  to  weave  idle  fables  about  Jupiter  and  Juno,  Apollo 
and  Diana.  But  the  difficulties,  under  which  he  labored,  are 
abundantly  illustrated  by  the  fact,  that  the  light  which  he 
poured  upon  the  human  intellect,  taught  other  ages  how  un- 
worthy was  the  religion  of  his  day,  of  the  man  who  was  com- 
pelled to  use  it. 

12.  If,  then,  so  great  results  have  flowed  from  this  one  effort 
of  a  single  mind,  what  may  we  not  expect  from  the  combined 
efforts  of  several,  at  least,  his  equals  in  power  over  the  human 
heart  ?  If  that  one  genius,  though  groping  in  the  thick  dark- 
ness of  absurd  idolatry,  wrought  so  glorious  a  transformation 
in  the  character  of  his  countrymen,  what  may  we  not  look  for 
from  the  universal  dissemination  of  those  writings,  on  whose 
authors  was  poured  the  full  spendor  of  eternal  truth  ?  If  un- 
assisted human  nature,  spell-bound  by  a  childish  mythology, 
has  done  so  much,  what  may  we  not  hope  from  the  super- 
natural efforts  of  pre-eminent  genius,  which  spake  as  it  v/as 
moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost  ? 

13.  If,  then,  we  would  see  the  foundations  laid  broad  and 


436  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

deep,  on  whicli  the  fabric  of  this  country's  liberties  shall  rest 
to  the  remotest  generations, — if  we  would  see  her  carry  forward 
the  work  of  political  reformation,  and  rise  the  bright  and  morn- 
ing star  of  freedom  over  a  benighted  world, — let  us  elevate  the 
intellectual  and  moral  character  of  every  class  of  our  citizens, 
and,  especially,  let  us  imbue  them  thoroughly  with  the  princi- 
ples of  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ. 


LESSON  CLXXIU 
THE   VALUE    OF  TIME. 


YOUNG. 


1.  Youth  is  not  rich  in  time  ;  it  may  be  poor. 
Part  with  it  as  with  money,  sparing ;  pay 
No  moment,  but  in  purchase  of  its  worth  ; — 

And  what  its  worth  ?     Ask  death-beds, — they  can  tell. 
Part  with  it  as  with  life,  reluctant. 

2.  On  all-important  time,  through  every  age. 

Though  much  and  warm  the  wise  have  urged,  the  man 

Is  yet  unborn,  who  duly  weighs  an  hour. 

*'  Fve  lost  a  day  /" — the  prince  who  nobly  cried, 

Had  been  an  emperor  without  his  crown. 

Of  Rome  ?  say,  rather,  lord  of  human  race ; 

He  spoke  as  if  deputed  by  mankind. 

So  should  all  speak, — so  reason  speaks  in  all. 

3.  /  Time  is  eternity ; 
Pregnant  with  all  eternity  can  give, — 
Pregnant  with  all  that  makes  archangels  smile. 
Who  murders  time,  he  crushes  in  the  birth 

A  power  ethereal,  only  not  adored. 
Ah  !  how  unjust  to  nature  and  himself 
Is  thoughtless,  thankless,  inconsistent  man  ! 
Like  children  babbling  nonsense  in  their  sports, ' 
We  censure  nature  for  a  span  too  short, — 
That  span  too  short  we  tax  as  tedious  too, — 
Torture  invention,  all  expedients  tire. 
To  lash  the  lingering  moments  into  speed, 


FIFTH     BOOK.  437 

And  whirl  us, — happy  riddance  ! — from  ourselves. 
Art,  brainless  art !  our  furious  charioteer, 
Drives  headlong  toward  the  precipice  of  death, — 
Death  most  our  dread, — death  thus  more  dreadfiil  mad^ 

Time,  in  advance,  behind  him  hides  his  wings, 
And  seems  to  creep,  decrepit  with  his  age. 
Behold  him,  when  passed  by, — what  then  is  seen 
But  his  broad  pinions  swifter  than  the  winds  ? 
And  all  mankind,  in  contradiction  strong, 
Rueful,  aghast,  cry  out  on  his  career. 
Time  wasted,  is  existence  ;  used,  is  life ; 
And  bare  existence  man,  to  live  ordained. 
Wrings  and  oppresses  with  enormous  weight. 
And  why  ?  since  Time  was  given  for  use,  not  waste. 
Enjoined  to  fly  with  tempest,  tide,  and  stars. 
To  keep  his  speed,  nor  ever  wait  for  man. 

Time's  use  was  doomed  a  pleasure;  waste,  a  pain; 

That  man  might  feel  his  error,  if  unseen, 

And,  feeling,  fly  to  labor  for  his  cure. 

Life's  cares  are  comforts, — such  by  Heaven  designed ; 

He  that  has  none,  must  make  them,  or  be  wretched. 

Cares  are  employments,  and,  without  employ, 

The  soul  is  on  a  rack,  the  rack  of  rest. 

To  souls  most  adverse, — action,  all  their  joy. 

0  the  dark  days  of  vanity  !     While  here, 

How  tasteless !  and  how  terrible,  when  gone  ! 

Gone  ?  they  ne'er  go  ;  when  past,  they  haunt  us  still ! 

The  spirit  walks  of  every  day  deceased. 

And  smiles  an  angel,  or  a  fury  frowns. 

Nor  death  nor  life  delights  us.     If  time  past 

And  time  possessed  both  pain  us,  what  can  please  ? 

That  which  the  Deity  to  please  ordained, — 

Time  used.     The  man  who  consecrates  his  hours. 

By  vigorous  eff"ort  and  an  honest  aim. 

At  once  he  draws  the  sting  of  life  and  death, — 

He  walks  with  nature,  and  her  paths  are  peace. 


438  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

LESSOM   CLXXnU 

ADVERTISEMENT    OP    A    LOST    DAY. 

MBS.   SIGOURNET. 

1.  Lost  !  lost !  lost ! 

A  gem  of  couutless  price, 
Cut  from  the  living  rock, 

And  graved  in  Paradise. 
Set  round  v?itli  three  times  eight 

Large  diamonds,  clear  and  bright, 
And  each  with  sixty  smaller  ones. 

All  changeful  as  the  light. 

2.  Lost, — where  the  thoughtless  throng 

In  fashion's  mazes  wind, 
Where  thrilleth  folly's  song, 

Leaving  a  sting  behind ; 
Yet  to  my  hand  'twas  given 

A  golden  harp  to  buy, 
Such  as  the  white-robed  choir  attune 

To  deathless  minstrelsy. 

3.  Lost !  lost !  lost ! 

I  feel  all  search  is  vain ; 
That  gem  of  countless  cost 

Can  ne'er  be  mine  again  : 
I  offer  no  reward, 

For  till  these  heart-strings  sever, 
I  know  that  Heaven-intrusted  gift 

Is  reft  away  forever. 

4.  But  when  the  sea  and  land, 

Like  burning  scrolls,  have  fled, 
I'll  see  it  in  His  hand. 

Who  judgeth  quick  and  dead  ; 
And  when  of  scathe  and  loss. 

That  man  can  ne'er  repair. 
The  dread  inquiry  meets  my  soul, 

What  shall  it  answer  there  ? 


FIFTH     BOOK.  439 

LESSON    CLXXIY* 

EULOGY    ON    NOAH    WEBSTER, 

CHANCELLOR  B^ENT. 

1.  For  nearly  half  a  century,  amidst  obstacles  and  toils, 
disappointments  and  infirmities,  this  eminent  Philologist  has 
nobly  sustained  his  courage  ;  and,  by  means  of  his  extraordi- 
nary skill  and  industry  in  the  investigation  of  languages,  he 
will  transmit  his  name  to  the  latest  posterity.  It  will  dwell 
on  the  tongues  of  infants,  as  soon  as  they  have  learned  to  lisp 
their  earhest  lessons.  It  will  be  stamped  on  our  American  Ht- 
erature,  and  be  carried  with  it  over  every  part  of  this  mighty 
continent.  It  will  be  honored  by  three  hundred  millions  of 
people, — for  that  is  the  number  which,  it  is  computed,  will,  in 
some  future  age,  occupy  the  wide  space  of  territory  stretching 
from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  ocean,  and  from  the  torrid  to 
the  arctic  regions. 

2.  Thr  American  Dictionary  of  the  English  Language 
is  a  work  of  profound  investigation,  and  does  infinite  honor  to 
the  philological  learning  and  general  literature  of  this  country. 
Happy  the  man  who  can  thus  honorably  identify  his  name 
with  the  existence  of  our  vernacular  tongue.  There  is  no 
other  way  in  which  mortal  man  could  more  efi'ectually  secure 
immortality  beneath  the  skies.  Obelisks,  arches,  and  triumph- 
al monuments,  seem  to  be  as  transient  as  the  bubble  of  mil- 
itary reputation,    . 

3.  No  work  of  art  can  withstand  the  incessant  strokes  of 
Time,  The  unrivaled  Parthenon,*  glowing  in  polished  marble, 
and  which,  for  more  than  two  thousand  years,  continued,  from 
the  summit  of  the  citadel  of  Athens,  to  cast  its  broad  splen- 
dors across  the  plains  below,  and  along  the  coasts  and  head- 
lands of  Attica,  is  now  crumbling  to  ruins,  after  being  de- 
spoiled of  its  most  exquisite  materials  by  savage  war  and 
heartless  man. 

4.  Even  the  Pyramids  of  Egypt,  whose  origin  is  hidden  in 
the  deepest  recesses  of  antiquity,  and  which  have  always  stood 

*  See  Note  1,  page  140. 


440  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

in  awe-inspiring  solitude  and  grandeur,  are  now  annoyed  by  tlae 
depredations  of  curiosity,  and  greatly  corroded  by  tbe  elements, 
and  gradually  sinking  under  tlie  encroaching  sands  of  the  des- 
ert. This  Dictionary,  and  the  language  which  it  embodies, 
will,  also,  perish  ;  but  it  will  not  be  with  the  gorgeous  palaces. 
It  will  go  with  the  solemn  temples  and  the  great  globe  itself. 


LESSON   CLXXV* 
THE    USES    OP    HISTORY. 

W.    IRVING. 

1.  How  vain,  how  fleeting,  how  uncertain  are  all  those 
gaudy  bubbles,  after  which  we  are  panting  and  toiling  in  this 
world  of  fair  delusion !  The  wealth  that  the  miser  has 
amassed  with  so  many  weary  days,  so  many  sleepless  nights,  a 
spendthrift  heir  may  squander  in  joyless  prodigality.  The  no- 
blest monuments  which  pride  has  ever  reared  to  perpetuate  a 
name,  the  hand  of  time  will  shortly  tumble  into  ruins ;  and 
even  the  brightest  laurels,  gained  by  feats  of  arms,  may  wither 
and  be  forever  blighted  by  the  chilling  neglect  of  mankind. 

2.  "  How  many  illustrious  heroes  who  were  once  the  pride 
and  glory  of  the  age,  hath  the  silence  of  historians  buried  in 
eternal  oblivion  !"  And  this  it  was,  that  induced  the  Spartans, 
when  they  went  to  battle,  solemnly  to  sacrifice  to  the  muses, 
supplicating  that  their  achievements  should  be  worthily  re- 
corded. Had  not  Homer  tuned  his  lofty  lyre,  observes  the 
elegant  Cicero,  the  valor  of  Achilles*  had  remained  unsung. 

3.  The  historian  is  the  sovereign  censor  to  decide  upon  the 
renown  or  infamy  of  his  fcllowmen, — he  is  the  patron  of 
kings  and  conquerors,  on  whom  it  depends  whether  they  shall 
live  in  after  ages,  or  be  forgotten  as  Avere  their  ancestors  be- 
fore them.  The  tyrant  may  oppress  Avhile  the  object  of  his 
tyranny  exists ;  but  the  historian  possesses  superior  might ;  for 
his  power  extends  even  beyond  the  grave. 

4.  The  shades  of  departed  and  long-forgotten  heroes  may 
be  imagined   anxiously  to  bend  down  from   above,  while  he 

*  A  cnUi'  LES  was  the  bravest  of  all  the  Greeks  in  the  Trojan  war. 


FIFTH     BOOK.  441 

writes,  watcliing  each  movement  of  his  pen,  ■whether  it  shall 
pass  by  their  names  with  neglect,  or  inscribe  them  on  the 
deathless  pages  of  renown.  Even  the  drop  of  ink  that  hangs 
trembling  on  his  pen,  which  he  may  either  dash  upon  the  floor, 
or  waste  in  idle  scrawlings, — that  very  drop,  which  to  him  is 
not  worth  the  twentieth  part  of  a  farthing,  may  be  of  incalcu- 
lable value  to  some  departed  worthy, — may  elevate  half  a 
score  in  one  moment  to  immortality,  who  would  have  given 
worlds,  had  they  possessed  them,  to  insure  the  glorious  meed. 
5.  Why,  let  me  ask,  are  so  many  illustrious  men  daily  tear- 
ing themselves  away  from  the  embraces  of  their  families, 
slighting  the  smiles  of  beauty,  despising  the  allurements  of 
fortune,  and  exposing  themselves  to  the  miseries  of  war  ? 
Why  are  kings  desolating  empires,  and  depopulating  whole 
countries  ?  In  short,  what  induces  all  great  men,  of  all  ages 
and  countries,  to  commit  so  many  victories  and  misdeeds,  and 
inflict  so  many  miseries  upon  mankind  and  themselves,  but  the 
mere  hope  that  some  historian  will  kindly  take  them  into  no- 
tice, and  admit  them  into  a  corner  of  his  volume  ?  For,  the 
mighty  object  of  all  their  toils,  their  hardships,  and  privations, 
is  nothing  but  immortal  fame. 


TEUB    FAME. 

JAY. 

1.  How  many  are  there  who  thirst  for  military  glory  ;  and 
what  sacrifices  would  they  not' make  to  obtain  it !  We  have 
long  been  spectators  of  the  great  tragedy  which  has  been 
acted  on  the  theater  of  Europe,  and  our  imaginations  have  be- 
come inflamed.  We  have  beheld  mighty  hosts  encountering 
each  other,  desperate  battles  fought,  and  victories  won.  We 
think  of  the  triumphant  march,  the  blood-stained  banner,  the 
captured  artillery,  and  all  the  pride,  pomp,  and  circumstance  of 
glorious  war,  till  many  of  us  would  willingly  face  danger  and 
death  itself,  to  acquire  a  renown  equal  to  that  of  some  favor- 
ite hero. 

2.  Yet  the  laurel  of  the  conqueror  grows  only  in  a  soil  which 

19* 


442  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

is  moistened  with  blood.  It  is  stained  witli  the  tears  of  the 
widow,  and  it  thrives  in  the  midst  of  desolation.  Nor  is  it 
durable.  Amid  all  the  annals  of  destruction,  how  few  are  the 
names  which  we  remember  and  pronounce  ! 

3.  But  is  there  glory  which  is  pure  and  enduring,  and  which 
deserves  to  be  sought  ?  Yes  ;  the  love  of  fame  is  a  noble  pas- 
sion, given  us  not  to  be  extinguished,  but  to  be  used  aright. 
There  is  a  glory  which  a  wise  man  will  covet,  which  a  good 
man  will  aspire  to,  which  will  follow  him  from  this  world  to 
the  next ;  and  there,  in  the  presence  of  an  assembled  universe 
of  angels,  and  of  just  men  made  perfect,  place  a  crown  upon 
his  brow,  that  fadeth  not  away. 


LESSON   CLXXYU 

MANIFEST    PRESENCE    OF  THE    DEITY. 

robert  montgomery. 

1.  Thou  TJncreate,  "Cnseen,  Undefined, 
Source  of  all  life,  and  Fountain  of  the  mind ; 
Pervading  Spirit,  whom  no  eye  can  trace. 

Felt  through  all  time,  and  working  in  all  space, — 
Imagination  can  not  paint  that  spot. 
Around,  above,  beneath,  where  Thou  art  not ! 

2.  Before  the  glad  stars  hymned  to  new-born  Earth, 
Or  young  Creation  reveled  in  its  birth. 

Thy  Spirit  moved  upon  the  pregnant  deep, 
Unchained  the  waveless  waters  from  their  sleep, 
Bade  Time's  majestic  wings  to  be  unfurled, 
And  out  of  darkness  drew  the  breathing  world ! 

3.  Ere  matter  formed  at  Thy  creative  tone, 
Thou  wast ! — Omnific,  Endless,  and  Alone ; 
In  Thine  own  essence,  all  that  was  to  be, — 
Sublime,  unfathomable  Deity  ! 

Thou  saidst, — and  lo  !  a  universe  was  born, 

And  light  flashed  from  Thee,  for  its  birth-day  morn ! 


FIFTH     BOOK.  443 

4.  A  thunder-storm ! — the  eloquence  of  heaven  ! 
When  every  cloud  is  from  its  slumber  driven, — 
Who  hath  not  paused  beneath  its  hollow  groan, 
And  felt  an  Omnipresence  round  him  thrown  ? 
With  what  a  gloom  the  ush'ring  scene  appears ! 
The  leaves  all  shivering  with  expectant  fears, 
The  waters  curling  with  a  kindred  dread, 

A  vailing  fervor  round  creation  spread, 
And,  last,  the  heavy  rain's  reluctant  shower. 
With  big  drops  patt'ring  on  the  tree  and  bower, 
While  wizard  shapes  the  bowing  sky  deform, — 
All  mark  the  coming  of  the  thunder-storm  ! 

5.  Oh !  now  to  be  alone  on  some  still  hight. 

Where  heaven's  black  curtains  hang  before  the  sight, 

And  watch  the  swollen  clouds  their  bosoms  clash. 

While  fleet  and  far  the  lightning-daggers  flash. 

Like  rocks  in  battle,  on  the  ocean's  bed, 

While  the  dashed  billows  foam  around  their  head ! 

To  mark  the  caverns  of  the  sky  disclose 

The  furnace  flames  that  in  their  depths  repose, 

And  see  the  fiery  arrows  fall  and  rise. 

In  dizzy  chase  along  the  rattling  skies ! — 

How  stirs  the  spirit  while  the  thunders  roll. 

And  some  vast  Presence  rocks  from  pole  to  pole  I 

6.  List !  now  the  cradled  winds  have  hushed  their  roar, 
And  infant  waves  curl  pouting  to  the  shore. 
While  drenched  Earth  seems  to  wake  up  fresh  and  clear, 
Like  Hope  just  risen  from  the  gloom  of  fear, — 
And  the  bright  dew-bead  on  the  bramble  lies, 
Like  liquid  rapture  upon  beauty's  eyes, — 
How  heavenly  'tis  to  take  the  pensive  range. 
And  mark,  'tween  storm  and  calm,  the  lovely  change ! 

1.  First  comes  the  sun,  unvailing  half  his  face, 
Like  a  coy  virgin,  with  reluctant  grace. 
While  dark  clouds,  skirted  with  his  slanting  ray, 
Koll,  one  by  one,  in  azure  depths  away, — 


444  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

Till  pearly  shapes,  like  molten  billows  lie, 
Along  the  tinted  bosom  of  tlie  sky  ; 
Next  breezes  swell  forth  with  harmonious  charm, 
Panting  and  wild,  like  children  of  the  storm  ! — 
Now  sipping  flowers,  now  making  blossoms  shake, 
Or  weaving  ripples  on  the  grass-green  lake ; 
And  thus  the  Tempest  dies, — and  bright  and  still 
The  rainbow  drops  upon  the  distant  hill.  *  *  * 

8.  Now  while  the  starry  choirs  aerial  rise. 
And  liquid  moonlight  mellows  all  the  skies, 
O  !  let  sublime  Imagination  soar 

.High  as  the  lightning's  rage,  or  thunder's  roar; 
Kide  on  the  deep,  or  travel  with  the  sun, 
Far  as  Creation  smiles,  or  Time  has  run ; — 
So  shall  her  eagle  eye  divinely  see 
All  living, — breathing, — full  of  Deity  ! 
In  every  wave,  and  wind,  and  fruit,  and  flower, 
The  beauty,  grace,  and  terror  of  His  power. 

9.  Who  hung  yon  planet  in  its  airy  shrine. 

And  dashed  the  sunbeam  from  its  burning  mine  ? 

Who  bade  the  ocean  mountain  swell  and  leap, 

And  thunder  rattle  from  the  skyey  deep  ? 

Through  hill  and  vale,  who  twined  the  healthful  stream  ? 

Made  rain  to  nurture,  and  the  fruit  to  teem  ? 

Who  charmed  the  clod  into  a  breathing  shrine, 

And  filled  it  with  a  living  flame  divine  ? 

One  Great  Enchanter  helmed  the  harmonious  whole, 

Creator  !— God  !— the  grand  Primeval  Soul  ! 


IxESSOW   CLXXYIU 

Explanatory  Notes.— 1.  Bri  a'  be  us,  among  the  ancients,  was  a  fabled 
giant,  with  a  hundred  hands  and  fifty  heads. 

2.  Galile'o,  an  illustrious  astronomer,  was  born  at  Florence,  in  1564. 
At  the  age  of  twenty-four,  he  was  appointed  mathematical  professor  at 
Pisa.  But  his  opposition  to  old  theories  of  philosophy,  created  him  ene- 
mies, which  led  him  to  resign  the  chair.   He  became  a  strenuous  advocate 


FIFTH     BOOK.  445 

of  the  Copernican  system  of  Astronomy,  which  taught  that  the  sun  was 
the  center,  and  that  the  planets,  among  which  was  the  earth,  revolved 
round  it.  He  was  twice  compelled  by  a  tribunal,  before  which  he  was 
arraigned,  to  abjure  the  system  ;  in  the  last  instance,  after  repeating  the 
abjuration,  he  is  said  to  have  stamped  on  the  earth,  and  said,  in  a  low 
voice,  "/if  does  move,  nevertheless^ 

3.  Fibe-Ceoss  is  something  used  in  Scotland  as  a  signal  to  take  arms. 

INTELLECTUAL   AND   MORAL   POWER. 

E.  L.  MAGOOIT. 

1.  True  power  is  intellectual.  Its  honor  and  reward  lie  in 
tlie  capacity  of  uttering  the  bright  coinage  of  immortal 
thought.  Providence  has  appointed  our  existence  in  an  age 
and  country,  most  favorable  for  the  illustration  of  this  point. 
In  ruder  ages,  physical  strength  obtained  mastership  in  life. 
In  the  subsequent  era  of  chivalry,  the  prowess  of  military 
chieftains  monopolized  the  brightest  smiles  and  the  richest 
honors.  But,  under  the  higher  civilization  of  modern  times, 
beautiful  Thought  is  the  favorite  sovereign,  who  from  the 
printed  page  or  speaking  lip,  sways,  with  omnipotent  energy,  a 
scepter  that  is  omnipresent. 

2.  Look  at  the  regal  power  of  mind.  If  it  can  not  "  create. 
a  soul  under  the  ribs  of  death,"  it  will  chisel  frosty  marble 
into  the  lineaments  and  gracefulness  of  more  than  kingly  maj^ 
esty.  Disdaining  to  employ  agents  Aveak  and  fragile  to  exe- 
cute its  purpose,  creative  mind  has  produced  a  Titan  progeny, 
whose  strength  is  greater  than  Briareus^  with  bis  hundreO 
hands.  Vivified  with  a  soul  ethereal  and  lightning- winged, 
these  servants,  whose  toil  is  neither  uncompensated  nor  unjust, 
open  the  quarry  and  drive  the  loom  ;  or,  when  linked  to  the  car 
and  ship,  they  unexhausted  go, 

"  Trailing  o'er  the  earth, 
And  bounding  'cross  the  sea." 

3.  There  are  intellects,  at  this  moment,  extant  and  luxuriating 
in  the  sohtudes  of  profound  meditation,  or  active  in  public  toil, 
whose  conceptions,  long  since  dispatched  on  their  mission  of 
conquest,  are  rushing  in  a  thousand  directions  with  infinitely 
moi-e  speed  and  energy  than  the  eagles  of  imperial  Rome.     As 


446  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 

the  liglitning  shineth  from  the  east  unto  the  west,  so  the  clear, 
broad  light  of  sterling  thought,  glittering  through  "the  spa- 
cious circuits  of  her  musing,"  is  pouring  an  effulgence  round 
the  globe..  Not  the  fitful  coruscations  of  vapid  mediocrity, 
but  profound  and  glowing  mind  is  the  universal  queen  whom 
all  must  adore  or  serve.  Republicans  though  we  are,  we  must 
acknowledge  here  is  a  sovereign,  victorious  beyond  our  envy  or 
our  hate. 

4.  Even  here  in  this  doomed  earth,  where  storms  howl  and 
disease  destroys,  the  Empires  that  rise,  and  the  institutions 
that  rule,  are  only  lengthened  shadows  of  individual  minds, 
walking  before  the  sun  of  immortal  glory.  It  is  the  same  now 
as  it  ever  has  been ;  the  thick  ranks  of  the  great  army  of 
mankind,  are  marching,  with  lock-step,  over  the  field  of  time 
to  great  conflicts  and  eternal  rewards. 

5.  They  march  to  the  music  of  thought,  regular  or  dis- 
tracting, and  he  who  plays  loudest  and  best  will  be  followed 
by  the  strongest  host.  A  thought  put  into  action  is  infinitely 
more  effective  than  exploding  cannon.  The  tones  of  true  elo- 
quence will  drown  all  their  uproar,  counteract  the  force  of 
their  destruction,  and  render  the  mightiest  despots  utterly  im- 
potent before  the  splendors  of  inspiring  truth.      *     *     * 

6.  The  will  of  God  requires  us  not  to  elevate  a  few  by  de- 
pressing the  many ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  to  seek  the  greatest 
good  of  the  greatest  number.  What  means  are  to  be  used  ? 
We  must  EDUCATE.  Let  us  not  leave  the  mass  of  mind  to 
grow  ignorant  and  corrupt,  and  afterward  attempt  coercively 
to  bind  it.  Xerxes  may  as  well  expect  to  chain  the  vexed  Hel- 
lespont in  peace.  Legislation  is  impotent,  any  longer,  to  resist 
the  beamings  of  a  brighter  day. 

Y.  Knowledge  is  generous  and  communicative,  and  jealousy, 
at  its  progress,  is  a  sure  symptom  of  its  want.  But  the  day 
has  come  when  it  can  not  be  successfully  resisted.  Supersti- 
tion may  condemn  Galileo''  for  his  improved  astronomy,  but 
the  earth  continues  to  turn  round  with  all  its  stupid  inhabitants, 
revolving  into  light.  Some  are  born  in  darkness,  and  have  al- 
ways dwelt  there  from  choice ;  it  is  their  native  land ;  for  it 


FIFTH      BOOK.  447 

they  fight ;  and  it  is  the  only  sense,  in  which  they  are  patri- 
otic. This  is  natural ;  but  they,  and  all  like  them,  who  fear 
the  effulgence  bursting  up  the  horizon,  should  quickly  kindle 
counter  fires,  and  educate,  educate  ! 

8.  The  more  obstructions  are  thrown  before  the  floodingr 
tide  of  knowledge,  the  more  destructive  energies  will  be  de- 
veloped. The  force  of  cannon  may  quell  mobs,  but  education 
will  prevent  them.  Moral  power  creates  the  strongest  muni- 
tions of  safety,  while  arbitrary  compulsion  degrades  both  the 
tyrant  and  his  victim.  We  may  expect  a  few  will  cry  out 
against  increased  illumination,  as  that  which  they  deprecate, 
shames  bigotry,  cures  superstition,  and  destroys  all  tyranny 
over  body  and  soul.  But  the  fire-cross'  of  wisdom  is  shin- 
ing from  hill-tOp  to  hill-top,  and  is  rapidly  bounding  from 
land  to  land.  Aggressions  into  the  kingdom  of  darkness  have 
commenced.  We  do  not  cry,  "  havoc  and  bloodshed  ;"  but  we 
do  say, — "  Let  there  be  light  !" 


9.  Let  there  be  light  !"  the  Eternal  spoke. 

And,  from  the  abyss  where  darkness  rode, 
The  earliest  dawn  of  nature  broke, 

And  light  around  creation  flowed. 
The  glad  earth  smiled  to  see  the  day, — 

The  first-born  day, — come  blushing  in ; 
The  young  day  smiled  to  shed  its  ray 

Upon  a  world  untouched  by  sin. 

10.  "Let  there  be  light!"  O'er  heaven  and  earth, 
The  God  who  first  the  day-beam  poured, 
Uttered  again  his  fiat  forth. 

And  shed  the  Gospel's  light  abroad ; 
And,  like  the  dawn,  its  cheering  rays 

On  rich  and  poor  were  meant  to  fall. 
Inspiring  their  Redeemer's  praise. 
In  lowly  cot  and  lordly  hall. 

Hoffman. 


448  SANDERS'    NEW    SEEIES. 

LESSON   CLXXYIIU 

SCOTLAND   AND   NEW   ENGLAND. 

EGBERT  TURNBULIj. 

"  Land  of  the  forest  and  the  rock, 

Of  dark  blue  lake  and  mighty  river, 
Of  mountains  reared  aloft  to  mock 
The  storm's  career,  the  lightning's  shock, 

My  own  green  land  forever ! 
Land  of  the  beautiful  and  brave  ! 
The  freeman's  home,  the  martyr's  grave  I 
The  nursery  of  giant  men, 
Whose  deeds  have  linked  with  every  glen, 
The  magic  of  a  warrior's  name!" 

1.  It  is  the  mind  wliich  transfers  its  own  ethereal  colors  to  the 
forms  of  matter,  and  invests  scenes  and  places  with  new  and 
peculiar  attractions.  Like  the  light  of  the  moon  streaming 
through  a  leafy  grove,  and  transforming  its  darkness  into  its 
own  radiant  beauty,  the  spirit  of  man  diffuses  its  own  inspira- 
tion through  the  universe, 

"  Making  all  nature 
Beauty  to  the  eye  and  music  to  the  ear." 

2.  No  country  will  appear  to  us  so  beautiful,  as  the  one 
which  happens  to  be  endeared  to  our  hearts  by  early  recollec' 
tions  and  pleasant  associations.  No  matter  how  rude  and  wild, 
— that  spot  of  all  others  on  earth,  will  appear  to  us  the  sweet- 
est and  most  attractive.  "  New  England,"  says  a  native  of 
Massachusetts,  "  is  the  glory  of  all  lands.  No  hills  and  vales  aro 
more  picturesque  than  hers,  no  rivers  more  clear  and  beautiful." 

3.  Others  may  speak  disparagingly  of  the  sour  climate  and 
barren  soil  of  Scotland ;  but  to  a  native  of  that  country,  the 
land  of  his  fathers  is  invested  with  all  the  charms  of  poetry 
and  romance.  Every  spot  of  its  varied  surface,  is  hallowed 
ground.  He  sees  its  rugged  rocks  and  desolate  moors  man- 
tled with  the  hoary  memories  of  by-gone  days,  the  thrilling  as- 
sociations of  childhood  and  youth. 

4.  What  visions  of  ancient  glory  cluster  around  the  time- 
honored  name  !  What  associations  of  wild  native  grandeur, — 
of  wizard  beauty  and  rough  magnificence !     What  gleams  of 


FIFTH     BOOK.      ,  449 

poetic  sunliglit, — wliat  recollections  of  martial  daring  by  flood 
aud  field, — what  hallowed  faith  and  burning  zeal, — what  mar- 
tyr toils  and  martyr  graves, — monuments  of  freedom's  strug- 
gles and  freedom's  triumphs  in  moor  or  glen, — what  ancient 
sono-  echoing  among  the  hills, — what  lofty  inspiration  of  the 
Bible  and  covenant, — in  a  word,  what  dear  aud  hallowed  mem- 
ories of  that  "  Auld  lang  syne,"  indigenous  only  to  Scotland, 
thoua'h  known  throughout  the  world  ! 

5.  Beautiful  is  New  England,  resembling  as  she  does,  in 
many  of  her  features,  "  auld  Scotia's  hills  and  dales,"  and, 
moreover,  being  much  akin  to  her,  in  religious  sentiment  and  love 
of  freedom  ;  so  that  a  native  of  either  might  well  be  forgiven 
for  clinging  with  peculiar  fondness  to  the  land  of  his  birth,  and, 
in  certain  moods  of  mind,  preferring  it  to  all  the  world  beside. 

6.  Though  far  away,  and  even  loving  the  place  of  his  es- 
trangement, he  can  not,  if  he  would,  altogether  renounce  those 
ties  which  bind  him  to  his  early  home.  A  viewless  chain 
which  crosses  ocean  and  continent,  conveys  from  the  one  to 
the  other  that  subtile,  yet  gracious  influence,  which  is  quicker 
and  stronger  than  the  lightning's  gleam. 


7.  Stern  land  !  we  love  thy  woods  and  rocks, 

Thy  rushing  streams,  and  winter  glooms, 
And  memory,  like  a  pilgrim  gray. 

Kneels  at  thy  temples  and  thy  tombs ; 
The  thoughts  of  these,  where'er  we  dwell, 
Come  o'er  us  like  a  holy  spell, 
A  star  to  light  our  path  of  tears, 
A  rainbow  on  the  sky  of  years! 

8.  Above  thy  cold  and  rocky  breast, 

The  tempest  sweeps,  the  night-wind  wails ; 
But  virtue,  peace,  and  love,  like  birds,  • 

Are  nestled  'mid  thy  hills  and  vales  : 
A  glory  o'er  each  plain  and  glen, 
Walks  with  thy  free  and  iron  men, 
And  lights  her  sacred  beacon  still. 
With  Bennington  and  Bunker  Hill. — G.  D.  Prentice. 


450  SANDERS'     NEW     SERIES. 


LESSON    CI.XXIX* 
THE    CLOSING    TEAR. 

GEORGE   D.   PRENTICE. 

1.  'Tis  midnight's  holy  hour, — and  silence  now 
Is  brooding  like  a  gentle  spirit  o'er 

The  still  and  pulseless  world.     Hark  !  on  the  winds 

The  bell's  deep  tones  are  swelling, — 'tis  the  knell 

Of  the  departed  year.     No  funeral  train 

Is  sweeping  past ;  yet,  on  the  stream  and  wood, 

"With  melancholy  light,  the  moon-beams  rest 

Like  a  pale,  spotless  shroud  ;  the  air  is  stirred 

As  by  a  mourner's  sigh ;  and,  on  yon  cloud 

That  floats  so  still  and  placidly  through  heaven, 

The  spirits  of  the  seasons  seem  to  stand, — 

Young  Spring,  bright  Summer,  Autumn's  solemn  form, 

And  Winter  with  its  aged  locks, — and  breathe. 

In  mournful  cadences  that  come  abroad. 

Like  the  far  wind-harp's  wild  and  touching  wail, 

A  melancholy  dirge  o'er  the  dead  year, 

Gone  from  the  Earth  forever. 

2.  'Tis  a  time 
For  memory  and  for  tears.     Within  the  deep, 
Still  chambers  of  the  heart,  a  specter  dim. 
Whose  tones  are  like  the  wizard  voice  of  Time, 
Heard  from  the  tomb  of  ages,  points  its  cold 
And  solemn  finger  to  the  beautiful 

And  holy  visions  that  have  passed  away, 

And  left  no  shadow  of  their  loveliness 

On  the  dead  waste  of  life.     That  specter  lifts 

The  cofiin;lid  of  Hope,  and  Joy,  and  Love, 

And,  bending  mournfully  above  the  pale. 

Sweet  forms  that  slumber  there,  scatters  dead  flowers 

O'er  what  has  passed  to  nothingness. 

3.  The  year 
Has  gone,  and,  with  it,  many  a  glorious  throng 


FIFTH     BOOK.  451 

Of  liappy  dreams.     Its  mark  is  on  each  brow, 
Its  shadow  iu  each  heart.     In  its  swift  course, 
It  waved  its  scepter  o'er  the  beautiful, 
And  they  are  not.     It  laid  its  pallid  hand 
Upon  the  strong  man,  and  the  haughty  form 
Is  fallen,  and  the  flashing  eye  is  dim. 
It  trod  the  hall  of  revelry,  where  thronged 
The  bright  and  joyous,  and  the  tearful  wail 
Of  stricken  ones,  is  heard  where  erst  the  song 
And  reckless  shout  resounded. 

4.  It  passed  o'er 

The  battle-plain,  where  sword,  and  spear,  and  shield, 
Flashed  in  the  light  of  mid-day  ;  and  the  strength 
Of  serried  hosts  is  shivered,  and  the  grass. 
Green  from  the  soil  of  carnage,  waves  above 
The  crushed  and  moldering  skeleton.     It  came 
And  faded  like  a  wreath  of  mist  at  eve ; 
Yet,  ere  it  melted  in  the  viewless  air, 
It  heralded  its  millions  to  their  home 
In  the  dim  land  of  dreams. 

5.  Remorseless  Time  ! 
Fierce  spirit  of  the  glass  and  scythe  ! — what  power 
Can  stay  him  in  his  silent  course,  or  melt 

His  iron  heart  to  pity  ?     On,  still  on, 
He  presses,  and  forever.     The  proud  bird, 
The  condor  of  the  Andes,  that  can  soar 
Through  heaven's  unfathomable  depths,  or  brave 
The  fury  of  the  northern  hurricane. 
And  bathe  his  plumage  in  the  thunder's  home. 
Furls  his  broad  wings  at  nightfall,  and  sinks  down 
To  rest  upon  his  mountain  crag  ; — but  Time 
Knows  not  the  weight  of  sleep  or  weariness ; 
And  night's  deep  darkness  has  no  chain  to  bind 
His  rushing  pinions. 

6.  Revolutions  sweep 

O'er  earth,  like  troubled  visions  o'er  the  breast 


452  SANDEES'     NEW     SEEIES. 

Of  dreaming  sorrow, — cities  rise  and  sink 
Like  bubbles  on  the  water, — fieiy  isles 
Spring  blazing  from  the  Ocean,  and  go  back 
To  their  mysterious  caverns, — mountains  rear 
To  heaven  their  bald  and  blackened  cliffs,  and  bow 
Their  tall  heads  to  the  plain, — new  empires  rise, 
Gathering  the  strength  of  hoary  centuries, 
And  rush  down  like  the  Alpine  avalanche, 
Startling  the  nations, — and  the  very  stars, 
Yon  bright  and  burning  blazonry  of  God, 
Glitter  a  while  in  their  eternal  depths, 
And,  like  the  Pleiad,  loveliest  of  their  train, 
Shoot  from  their  glorious  spheres,  and  pass  away 
To  darkle  in  the  trackless  void, — yet.  Time, 
Time,  the  tomb-builder,  holds  his  fierce  career, 
Dark,  stern,  all-pitiless,  and  pauses  not 
Amid  the  mighty  wrecks  that  strew  his  path, 
To  sit  and  muse,  like  other  conquerors. 
Upon  the  fearful  ruin  he  has  wrought. 


LESSON  CLXXX+ 

ExPLAKATORY  NoTES. — 1.  Eich'  e  LIEU  and  Maz'  A  KIN  wore  cele- 
brated French  statesmen. 

2.  Ce'cils,  eminent  English  statesmen,  who  lived  in  the  sixteenth 
century. 

3.  The  Earl  op  Chat'  ham,  or  Will'  iam  Pitt,  one  of  the  most  illustri- 
ous statesmen  of  England,  ruled  his  country  solely  by  the  superiority  of 
his  genius.  In  eloquence  ho  was  not  surpassed  by  any  of  his  countrymen. 
Integrity  and  patriotism  were  united  in  him  with  indefatigable  industry 
and  sagacity.  He  became  particularly  distinguished,  as  a  friend  and  ad- 
vocate of  the  American  colonies,  and  strongly  deprecated  the  coercive 
measures  of  his  country  toward  tliem. 

4.  Am  phic'  ty  oxs  were  deputies  from  the  different  Grecian  states,  who 
composed  the  general  assembly  which  regulated  certain  general  affairs. 
It  was  established  by  Ampiiictyon. 

5.  A  CHiE'  ANSwere  the  inhabitants  of  Achaia,  one  of  the  Grecian  states. 
The  AcH^AN  League  was  formed  by  a  few  cities  for  tlie  maintenance  of 
their  security  and  independence. 

6.  Ly'  cians  were  the  inhabitants  of  Lycia,  a  province  of  Asia  Minor 


FIFTH     BOOK.  453 

Twenty-seven  cities  of  Lycia  formed  a  confederated  Republic,  with  a  Con- 
gress which  regulated  the  general  pul^hc  concerns,  and  a  President, 
called  Lyciarch,  or  Governor  of  Lycia. 

1.  Will'  iam  Pres'  cott  was  a  distinguished  Revolutionary  officer.  He 
was  the  commander  of  the  American  soldiers  at  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill. 

8.  "War'  ren  was  a  Major-General  in  the  Revolutiouary  army,  of  distin- 
guished learning  and  ability.  In  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  he  joined  the 
Americans,  as  a  volunteer,  to  encourage  tliem,  and  was  killed. 

9.  Fa'  bi  us,  one  of  the  greatest  Generals  of  ancient  Rome,  saved  his 
country,  when  threatened  with  ruin  after  the  Romans  had  been  defeated 
by  the  Carthaginians  under  Hannibal. 

THE   AMERICAN   REVOLUTION. 

JARED  SPARKS. 

1.  In  many  respects  the  history  of  North  America  differs 
from  that  of  every  other  country,  and,  in  this  difference,  it  pos- 
sesses an  interest  peculiar  to  itself,  especially  for  those  whose 
lot  has  been  cast  here,  and  who  look  back  with  a  generous 
pride  to  the  deeds  of  ancestors,  by  whom  a  nation's  existence 
has  been  created,  and  a  nation's  glory  adorned.  The  acts  of 
the  Revolution  derive  dignity  and  interest  from  the  character 
of  the  actors,  and  the  nature  and  magnitude  of  the  events. 

2.  In  all  great  political  revolutions,  men  have  arisen,  pos- 
sessed of  extraordinary  endowments,  adequate  to  the  exigency 
of  the  time.  It  is  true,  that  such  revolutions,  or  any  remark- 
able and  continued  exertions  of  human  power,  must  be  brought 
to  pass  by  corresponding  qualities  in  the  agents ;  but  whether 
the  occasion  makes  the  men,  or  the  men  the  occasion,  may  not 
always  be  ascertained  with  exactness.  In  either  case,  how- 
ever, no  period  has  been  adorned  with  examples  more  illustri- 
ous, or  more  perfectly  adapted  to  the  high  destiny  awaiting 
them,  than  that  of  the  American  Revolution.  I 

3.  Statesmen  were  at  hand,  who,  if  not  skilled  in  the  art 
of  governing  empires,  were  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  prin- 
ciples of  just  government,  intimately  acquainted  with  the  his- 
tory of  former  ages,  and,  above  all,  with  the  condition,  senti- 
ments, feelings  of  their  countrymen.  If  there  were  no  Riche- 
lieus  nor  Mazarines,'  no  Cecils^  nor  Chathams,'  in  America, 
there  were  men,  who,  like  Themistocles,  knew  how  to  raise  a 
small  state  to  glory  and  greatness. 


454  SANDEES'     NEW     SERIES. 

4.  The  eloquence  and  the  internal  counsels  of  the  Old  Con- 
gress, were  never  recorded ;  we  know  them  only  in  their  re- 
sults ;  but  that  assembly,  with  no  other  power  than  that  con- 
ferred by  the  suffrage  of  the  people,  with  no  other  influence 
than  that  of  their  public  virtue  and  talents,  and  without  prece- 
dent to  guide  their  deliberations,  unsupported  even  by  the  arm 
of  law  or  ancient  usages, — that  assembly  levied  troops,  im- 
posed taxes,  and,  for  years,  not  only  retained  the  confidence,  and 
upheld  the  civil  existence  of  a  distracted  "country,  but  carried 
through  a  perilous  war  under  its  most  aggravated  burdens  of 
sacrifice  and  suff"ering. 

5.  Can  we  imagine  a  situation,  in  Avhich  were  required 
higher  moral  courage,  more  intelligence  and  talent,  a  deeper 
insight  into  human  nature  and  the  principles  of  social  and  po- 
litical organization,  or,  indeed,  any  of  those  qualities  which  con- 
stitute greatness  of  character  in  a  statesman  ?  See,  likewise, 
that  work  of  wonder,  the  Confederation,  a  union  of  independ- 
ent states,  constructed  in  the  very  heart  of  a  desolating  war, 
but  with  a  beauty  and  strength,  imperfect  as  it  was,  of  which 
the  ancient  leagues  of  the  Amphictyons*,  the  Achseans,'  the 
Lycians,°  and  the  modern  confederacies  of  Germany,  Holland, 
Switzerland,  aff"ord  neither  exemplar  nor  parallel. 

6.  In  their  foreign  affairs,  these  same  statesmen  showed  no 
less  sagacity  and  skill,  taking  their  stand  boldly  in  the  rank  of 
nations,  maintaining  it  there,  competing  with  the  tactics  of 
practiced  diplomacy,  and  extorting  from  the  powers  of  the 
old  world,  not  only  the  homage  of  respect,  but  the  proffers  of 
friendsliip. 

7.  The  military  events  of  the  Revolution,  which  necessarily 
occupy  so  much  of  its  history,  are  not  less  honorable  to  the 
actors,  nor  less  fruitful  in  the  evidences  they  afford  of  large 
designs  and  ability  of  character.  But  these  we  need  not  re- 
count. They  live  in  the  memory  of  all ;  we  have  heard  them 
from  the  lips  of  those  who  saw  and  suffered  ;  they  are  in- 
scribed on  imperishable  monuments  ;  the  very  hills  and  plains 
around  us  tell  of  achievements  which  can  never  die  ;  and  the 
day  will  come,  when  the  traveler  who  has  gazed  and  pondered 


FIFTH     BOOK.  455 

at  Marathon*  and  Waterloo,  will  linger  on  the  mount  where 
Prescott'  fought  and  Warren*  fell,  and  say  : — "  Here  is  the  field 
where  man  has  struggled  in  his  most  daring  conflict ;  here  is 
the  field  where  liberty  poured  out  her  noblest  blood,  and  won 
her  brightest  and  most  enduring  laurels." 

8.  Happy  was  it  for  America,  happy  for  the  world,  that  a 
great  name,  a  guardian  genius,  presided  over  her  destinies  in 
war,  combining  more  than  the  virtues  of  the  Roman  Fabius* 
and  the  Theban  Epamiuondas,f  and  compared  with  whom  the 
conquerors  of  the  old  world,  the  Alexanders  and  Cesars,  are 
but  pageants  crimsoned  with  blood  and  decked  with  the  tro- 
phies of  slaughter,  objects  equally  of  the  wonder  and  the  ex- 
ecration of  mankind.  Tlie  hero  of  America  was  the  conqueror 
only  of  his  country's  foes,  and  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen. 
To  the  one  he  was  a  terror,  and  in  the  other  he  gained  an  as- 
cendency, supreme,  unrivaled,  the  tribute  of  admiring  grati- 
tude, the  reward  of  a  nation's  love. 

9.  The  American  armies,  compared  with  the  embattled  legions 
of  the  old  world,  were  small  in  numbers ;  but  the  soul  of  a 
whole  paople  centered  in  the  bosom  of  these  more  than  Spar- 
tan bands,  and  vibrated  quickly  and  keenly  with  every  inci- 
dent that  befell  them,  whether  in  their  feats  of  valor,  or  the 
acuteness  of  their  sufferings.  The  country  itself  was  one  wild 
battle-field,  in  which  not  merely  the  life  blood,  but  the  dear- 
est interests,  the  sustaining  hopes,  of  every  individual,  were  at 
stake. 

10.  It  was  not  a  war  of  pride  and  ambition  between  mon- 
archs,  in  which  an  island  or  a  province  might  be  the  award  of 
success ;  it  was  a  contest  for  personal  liberty  and  civil  rights, 
coming  down  in  its  principles  to  the  very  sanctuary  of  home 
and  the  fireside,  and  determining,  for  every  man,  the  measure 
of  responsibility  he  should  hold  over  his  own  condition,  pos- 
sessions, and  happiness.  The  spectacle  was  grand  and  new, 
and  may  well  be  cited  as  the  most  glowing  page  in  the  annals 
of  progressive  man. 

*  See  Note  1,  page  332.  t  See  Note,  page  40. 


456  SANDERS'    NEW     SERIES. 

11.  The  instructive  lesson  of  history,  teaching  by  example, 
can  nowhere  be  studied  with  more  profit,  or  with  a  bettor 
promise,  than  in  this  revolutionary  period  of  America  ;  and  es- 
pecially by  us  who  sit  under  the  tree  our  fathers  have  planted, 
enjoy  its  shade,  and  are  nourished  by  its  fruits.  But  little  is 
our  merit,  or  gain,  that  we  applaud  their  deeds,  unless  we 
emulate  their  virtues. 

12.  Love  of  country  was,  in  the  man,  absorbing  principle, 
an  undivided  feeling, — not  of  a  fragment,  a  section,  but  of  the 
whole  country.  Union  was  the  arch,  on  which  they  raised  the 
strong  tower  of  a  nation's  independence.  Let  the  arm  be 
palsied,  that  would  loosen  one  stone  in  the  basis  of  this  fair 
structure,  or  mar  its  beauty, — the  tongue  mute,  that  would 
dishonor  their  names,  by  calculating  the  value  of  that  Avhich 
they  deemed  without  price. 

13.  They  left  us  an  example  already  inscribed  in  the  world's 
memory, — an  example  portentous  to  the  aims  of  tyranny  in 
every  laud, — an  example  that  will  console,  in  all  ages,  the 
drooping  aspirations  of  oppressed  humanity.  They  have  left 
us  a  written  charter  as  a  legacy,  and  as  a  guide  to  ouf  course. 
But  every  day  convinces  us  that  a  written  charter  may  become 
powerless.  Ignorance  may  misinterpret  it ;  ambition  may  as- 
sail and  faction  destroy  its  vital  parts  ;  and  aspiring  knavery 
may,  at  last,  sing  its  requiem  on  the  tomb  of  departed  liberty. 

14.  It  is  the  spirit  which  lives; — in  this  are  our  safety  and 
our  hope, — the  spirit  of  our  fathers ;  and  while  this  dwells 
within  our  remembrance,  and  its  flame  is  cherished,  ever  burn- 
ing, ever  pure,  on  the  altar  of  our  hearts, — while  it  incites  us 
to  think  as  they  have  thought,  and  do  as  they  have  done,  the 
honor  and  the  praise  will  be  ours,  to  have  preserved,  unim- 
paired, the  rich  inheritance  which  they  so  nobly  achieved. 


THE     E  ND 


/ 


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'"I m75?!lf«i 


FACILITY 


